


Family Secrets

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-09
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 114,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Sometime after Terra Prime, T'Pol & Tucker have married on Vulcan. On the way home, they are kidnapped by Romulans, and T'Pol learns of a dark family secret. The Romulan War is coming, and it appears she and Trip will be in the middle of it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Set after Terra Prime, ignoring TATV. Based on a rumor of what might have happened in Season 5.
> 
> Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.  
> This is a Trip & T'Pol story but Malcolm/Hoshi show up later as a "B" plot and there is a wee bit of Archer/Hernandez action way late in the story.

The Vulcan transport headed toward Earth at Warp 4. There was no rush. Even its two most controversial passengers had weeks before rejoining their crew and resuming their mission. It couldn't come soon enough, thought T'Pol as her mind cataloged all the stares, whispers and eyebrow raises she had endured. The humans of the Enterprise, at least, were open minded.

T'Pol glanced down out the ring around her finger. Strange, she thought. Years ago she would have been appalled at the idea of any Vulcan marrying a human, and now she had married one herself. What a difference five years had made. Five years of observing humans at their best and their worst. Five years of being fascinated by their emotions. Five years of coming to respect them.

Moreover, marrying Trip had been the logical thing to do. There was no erasing the neural damage her adventures in the Expanse had caused. There was no erasing her bond with Trip. No erasing the death of Elizabeth. All of these things tainted her in the eyes of Vulcans, but she wouldn't change any of those events if she could. Since she would never be fully accepted among her own kind again and her mother was gone, there was no logic in returning to Vulcan.

So many of Vulcans thought that Elizabeth's death should have been a relief. The way in which she was created alone made that logical to them. Had they know what it had been like for T'Pol just to hold the child, they would have understood. It hadn't mattered how or why she was created. At least some humans understood that.

So her lot was among humans. And yes, a life with Trip would be logical. Especially now that he realized that Vulcans don't talk about their feelings. If her new husband wanted her to "share" as it were, he would have to do it in the Vulcan way - through their telepathic bond.

It was that bond that told her that Trip was in the engine room with the transport's chief engineer hoping to glean any bit of information he could about the engine's efficiency. Until he was satisfied he had gotten all the information he could, T'Pol was left to entertain herself in the commissary.

A Vulcan woman about her own age, with long dark hair, approached T'Pol, who was sitting at a small table next to the window and sipping tea.

"That tea smells unfamiliar. May I assume it is an Earth blend?" the woman asked.

"A correct assumption," answered T'Pol.

"May I?" asked the woman as she gestured to the empty chair. The woman wore a traditional Vulcan robes of a slightly old-fashioned style.

T'Pol searched the woman's face for any hint of derision or judgement or even morbid curiosity.

"My name is Ravel," she said.

"T'Pol."

"I am aware. You and your husband are the talk of the ship."

T'Pol remained silent.

"Vulcans," said Ravel, "rarely get a chance to be scandalized. And when they do, they seem to relish it. I doubt any of them would ever admit it, of course."

Silent, still.

"But I wanted to meet you for other reasons. I've been impressed by the tales of the Enterprise. Your Captain and yourself were quite relevant during the recent troubles. It's not many who can change the course of a people's history."

"We were two of many," said T'Pol, "But I'll express your admiration to Jonathan Archer when I see him."

Ravel raised an eyebrow, and T'Pol wasn't sure what to make of this woman. Everyone else on the transport treated her as if they would somehow become infected with an affinity for humans by coming near her.

"That would be gracious of you," replied Ravel.

Something about this woman didn't sit right with T'Pol. She stood up, taking her tea with her.

"Excuse me, Ravel. I must return to my quarters," said T'Pol. She moved as slowly and deliberately as she could towards the exit. She didn't want this woman Ravel to know that she did not like her.

Once in the hallway and out of the commissary, T'Pol used her considerable mental discipline to put the strange woman out of her mind. No doubt the woman was just curious about the idea of a rebellious Vulcan.

She opened the door to her quarters and knew Trip was there. Even without the mental bond she would have know since she could smell him, even in the shower. Trip knew she was there and beckoned her to join him.

Who am I to refuse? replied T'Pol, this is our honeymoon.

 

_________________________

 

"Wow," said Trip, lying in his wife's arms, "Sexual relations with a telepathic bond sure is exhausting."

She stroked his hair and looked down into his eyes. Humans had such a hard time not talking, even when they didn't need to. Luckily, she had come to find the habit charming in Trip.

"But I'll get used to it," he continued.

T'Pol slipped her hand into his. He closed his eyes. Now he knew why Vulcans never expressed love verbally. If they had this kind of bond, they didn't need to.

He knew other things, too. Nobody would ever guess that she was bothered by the attitudes of her fellow Vulcans, but deep down she was. It's not that she wished her life was different, she just wished her species wasn't so conformist. Of course, the humans weren't exactly open to inter-species mixing either. Attitudes had changed since Elizabeth's death but T'Pol regretted that it had taken their child's death for the humans to accept her existence.

Trip felt the tinge of melancholy there. The one that would always be there because of Elizabeth. But thanks to the Vulcan bond, neither of them would ever be able to deny it or pretend it wasn't there. In a strange way, that made it easier for both of them to move forward. The pain would never go away, but it would become easier for them both to live with.

"I heard from the Captain today," said Trip, "He says we might be headed back toward what was once the Expanse for our next mission. To check on things since the spheres were destroyed."

T'Pol rose from bed and began to dress. She chose some human style clothes. She still had plenty of Vulcan-style outfits, but she figured she would give some of the passengers more to gossip about.

"It would be interesting to see that part of space under better circumstances," said T'Pol. Privately, he knew that in addition to not being at war, better circumstances for her meant without half the ships in the area coated with Trellium-D.

"I suppose that whole area of space will be filled with good and bad memories," he said.

Both of them would give up the life they had, the bond they shared if they could go back in time and stop the Xindi attack and its awful aftermath. But both also understood that it was during that those desperate days that their bond had formed. Both knew that it was at the times of tragedy and terror that Humans and Vulcans could find the best within themselves.

"I assume you haven't told the Captain we're married, yet," said T'Pol. Trip had what she thought was a sentimental notion about wanting to tell the crew of the Enterprise in person. He also had talked about having a human ceremony aboard for the benefit of their friends. T'Pol disliked the idea, as Vulcan marriages were deeply solemn and private affairs, but she had resolved that she would indulge Trip in a desire to celebrate in a more human fashion.

The transport hummed just a bit. Trip sat up. A second later, T'Pol realized what he had realized - they had dropped out of warp.

"We're at least six hours from the next stop," said Trip, "Something must be wrong."

Both of them felt the frustration of being passengers and not being able to simply call up to the bridge for a report.

An announcement came over the comm, in Vulcan. T'Pol translated for her husband.

"The were peculiar energy readings. Probably just subspace shadows, but the captain wanted to drop out of warp as a precaution," she said.

"Perhaps we can lend a hand," said Trip as he too got dressed. "I'll bet you and me have more experience with peculiar readings that every single member of this crew."

T'Pol was about to agree with him and suggest protocols for offering their help when she noticed something out the window. There was a flicker of energy and then a giant, bird like starship appeared. Trip felt for a moment that deep beneath the surface, she was frightened.

"What is it?"

"I believe that's a type of Romulan Vessel. And a well armed one at that."

"What do you think it wants?"

Before T'Pol could answer both she and Trip dematerialized. Within seconds, they found themselves in a large, spacious room aboard what they assumed with the Romulan vessel. Strangely, their luggage had also been transported over.

Trip had never seen any room on a starship so large - except perhaps the mess hall on Enterprise. And this room was lushly furnished for comfort, not utility. There were woven carpets and low slung upholstered chairs and chaises. There was a table with a sumptuous spread of food - some Human, Some Vulcan and some Trip didn't recognize. In the corner was a bed, hung with think, woven tapestries with green letters that Trip thought were part of the Vulcan alphabet.

"Those words aren't Vulcan, I believe they are Romulan."

T'Pol noticed a paper card lying on the table. It was written in a rich calligraphy. In Vulcan. Again, T'Pol translated for her husband.

"Welcome. You are now guests of the Romulan Star Empire. The Proconsul has requested an audience with you. You will not be harmed. We have been ordered to make your journey as comfortable as possible and will honor any requests except your release."

T'Pol felt Trip's fear turn to relief, and his relief turn to anger. He walked over to the door and attempted to open it. He wasn't surprised when it did not respond.

"We've been kidnapped," he said, stating the obvious.

T'Pol took his hand and attempted to calm him, but he pulled it back.

"I'll keep my anger, thank you."

Trip examined the door mechanism and knew he could probably bust through. He also knew he'd probably find a bevy of heavily armed Romulans on the other side. He and T'Pol were traveling at what felt like Warp 6 on a cloaked Romulan vessel, heading into Romulan space and there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Just as long as you don't do anything. . .rash. Little is known about the Romulans, but I believe if they wanted to harm us we would already be harmed."

T'Pol walked over to the table and picked up a pitcher of what appeared to be water. She poured a glass.

"That could be drugged," said Trip.

"Why would they drug us?" asked T'Pol, "We're already helpless."

She inhaled the air above the water. Then took a small sip. It tastes fine.

T'Pol pointed to an elegant bottle of a blue translucent liquid.

"Romulan Ale. It's illegal on Vulcan. Highly intoxicating to us, with a slightly hallucinatory effect. Some Vulcan adolescents use it to test their emotional control."

T'Pol noticed that gloves had been provided for her and Trip so they could pick up food. Clearly, the Romulans didn't know much about human eating habits. T'Pol leaned over and put on a glove and picked up what appeared to be an apple.

"It's an apple. From Earth, I think," she said and sat down on the low chaises.

Trip joined her and picked up an apple of his own.

"This may be the nicest place I've ever been held captive."

"Romulans are reportedly very decadent," she replied.

"Their drone ship wasn't very decadent," said Trip, remembering he and Reed's near disaster aboard that ship.

"Any ideas on how we might get out of this? Do they have escape pods? Shuttles?"

"We're very likely being listened to," said T'Pol as she removed her glove and slipped her hand into Trip's.

He suddenly knew she wanted to escape as badly as he did and how unlikely she thought that was. She believed that they were being monitored and that any attempt to escape might result in their separation or worse. But she did need more information.

T'Pol stood up and walked to what she believed was the comm system. She spoke in Vulcan but after a few moments Trip could understand her. A UT had been activated.

"This is Commander T'Pol. I would like you to answer some questions. I realize escape is out of the question."

A deep, masculine voice came over the comm.

"One moment."

Very soon after the door swooshed open. In walked Ravel, dressed in a severe black jumpsuit that appeared military in nature. Her hair was no longer long, but short and also severe. She also wore a gold collar around her neck and what appeared to be a particle disrupter at her hip. She smiled.

"You look like a Vulcan," said Trip, "But let me guess. You're not a Vulcan."

"I've been masquerading as one or so long, sometimes I forget I can smile," said Ravel, "But you're correct. I'm one hundred percent Romulan."

T'Pol said nothing. Ravel stepped forward and looked her straight in the eye.

"First, allow me to apologize. The Romulan Star Empire is usually not in the business of kidnapping. But we have orders from the ProConsul to bring you to see him. And if you want to know anything about us - know this. We are in no position to disobey an order from him. He didn't know you were married, but when I informed him, he told us to bring your husband as well."

Trip took a deep breath, relieved that they had brought him along. As frightening as this was, he wouldn't want to be back on that Vulcan transport wondering what happened to his wife.

"Romulans respect family bonds," said Ravel, "And the ProConsul wanted me to congratulate you on your marriage as well as send belated condolences on the death of your daughter. Romulans believe death is only the beginning of journey and he hopes you take comfort in that."

"Tell him thank you," said T'Pol, "Why does he wish to see me...us?"

Ravel looked down at her boots. Trip knew immediately that she knew the answer but wasn't going to be telling. She might look like a Vulcan, but she was far too transparent to be one.

"The ProConsul wishes to tell you his reasons in person. But I can tell you this - he means neither of you any harm. And he is not going to stop until sees you. . .I know a little bit about both your histories - especially yours Commander Tucker. I'll wager if you two put your heads together you could escape in a shuttle, send a message to Earth or Vulcan and get yourselves rescued. But then he'll have us come after you again . . .and the next time it won't be so comfortable. Plus we've been ordered not to harm either of you - but we can kill anyone who tries to rescue you on sight. Do yourselves a favor. Meet with the ProConsul and you'll be free to go. No one will get hurt."

"What is that title mean, ProConsul?" asked Trip.

"I'm not authorized to give you details of our government structure. Suffice it to say - that there are very few Romulans that would refuse an order from a ProConsul. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to inform him that we are on our way."

Ravel pivoted and exited. Both T'Pol and Trip did their best to get a look at the hallway outside their room. It appeared dark and far more utilitarian than where they were.

T'Pol grasped Trip's hand and closed her eyes. The next thing he knew they were standing in the white space.

"I think we should meet with this ProConsul. Unless you have a better plan. We are probably very close to Romulan space by now."

"I don't trust these people. They are dangerous."

"Agreed. But I don't believe we have a choice. If you see options, tell me."

"Agreed."

T'Pol dropped his hand and they were back in their lush prison. She sat back down on chaise and poured herself a generous glass of Romulan Ale.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Back in school I was quite adept at keeping control," she said as she poured him a much smaller glass. "Be cautious. I have no idea what that will do to you."

 

_______________________

 

A slight shiver in the engines awoke Trip. They had dropped out of warp. T'Pol felt the same thing and also awoke. They were both fully clothed, lying on the bed. This was the fourth day of their captivity - and they both had an instinct they had arrived at their destination.

Out the window, they saw a green gas giant.

"I think we're orbiting a moon," said Trip, "It looks habitable."

There was a ring at the door. That was how it had been for days - polite rings at the door. Ravel or one of her attendants brought them whatever they requested. Their clothes had been cleaned, meals had been prepared. They had listened to Romulan music and read translated Romulan They even requested a message be sent to Earth and Vulcan saying they were unharmed. Ravel said that request would be honored. Neither Trip or T'Pol knew if that was the truth.

"I suppose we have arrived," said T'Pol. Her face appeared completely serene but very deep beneath the surface Trip sensed anxiety.

"At least we'll get to solve the mystery of why we are here," said Trip.

Ravel's voice came over the comm.

"We've arrived. The ProConsul runs a formal household. Wear your best," said Ravel.

Trip and T'Pol changed accordingly. He into a Earth-style suit and her into one of her many Vulcan-style dresses. Trip couldn't help but admire his wife's sense of fashion, even under the circumstances. The spun Vulcan silk of her dress shimmered blue under the lights as she wrapped a silver scarf around her head.

"It isn't everyday we meet a ProConsul of the Romulan Star empire," she said.

A voice came over the comm.

"Would you prefer to transport or take a shuttle to the surface?"

"Shuttle," said Trip.

"Very good. Someone will arrive to escort you shortly."

"We might as well sight see while your here," he said

"And get a look at Romulan shuttle technology," said T'Pol.

Ravel arrived, this time in an even more formal looking uniform.

"Come this way," she said.

Soon they were in a sleek shuttle, heading to the surface.

"Obviously, this isn't Romulus," said Ravel, "Even the ProConsul wouldn't be foolish enough to bring outsiders there. This is his private retreat. We are quite near the edge of the Empire."

Out the shuttle window, Trip saw a bright, green topography - different from Earth - but beautiful and somewhat surreal. The surface appeared to be mostly water, with some small continents.

"This moon is Minshara class?" asked T'Pol.

"Nearly so," said Ravel, "It had a little help from our atmospheric processors. But it is completely habitable now. The ProConsul even keeps a herd of Romulan deer and a school of Reman whales here...as he enjoys hunting."

"There are definitely not Vulcans," said Trip, noting his wife's eyebrow.

They were approaching a green, marshy island that had what could only be described as a palace constructed on it. It reminded trip of a cross between Versailles and the Acropolis, only bigger.

"This is the ProConsul's summer cottage," said Ravel.

Trip didn't think the UT was translating the word cottage correctly.

Soon they set down on a landing pad on the far edge of the palace. Several Nosfertu-like Remans greeted them. But there were no other Romulans to be seen. The place appeared deserted.

Ravel led them down a path and around to the front of the palace. It was empty and cold. Trip would have thought it was a ruin, except everything was pristine condition.

At the top of the stairs, they could see the outline of a man.

"I'll leave you now," said Ravel, "But no this. Even though you can't see them, there are guards everywhere. Do nothing foolish."

Ravel slipped away. When Trip turned around to see where she had gone, there was no one there.

T'Pol began up the stairs, intently staring at the shadow figure at the top.

"I thought Vulcans had a flare for the dramatic. Apparently they have nothing on Romulans."

As they ascended, the man at the top appeared more and more Vulcan to Trip. The same silhouette, the same pointed ears. By the time they reached the top, he looked entirely Vulcan. A middle aged, supremely harsh looking Vulcan. Yet, there was something familiar about the slight indentation on his nose and the shape of his face.

Trip also sensed shock bubbling deep inside T'Pol. Her face was serene as ever, but she was not calm underneath.

"Welcome, T'Pol," said the man, "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Father?"

T'Pol said nothing else. Every bit of energy she had was going toward keeping control of her emotion. She even slipped her hand inside of Trip's to borrow some of his - something she had never done before.

"You must be Commander Tucker," said the ProConsul, "It's a pleasure to meet you. My daughter is naturally shocked to see me, as she believed I died in an accident some years ago. She was also under the impression I was a Vulcan, and not a Romulan. These two bits of information would challenge even the most controlled of Vulcan minds."

Trip looked at the man and immediately saw the resemblance. If this was some sort of a trick, it was a damn good one. The ProConsul politely led them onto a massive balcony overlooking the green sea. He took T'Pol's hand and led her to a comfortable chaise much like one that had been on the ship.

"Do you need water, dear one," he asked, "You look a shade too pale to me."

T'Pol looked up.

"That's what you used to call me when I was a child. Dear one."

"You remember. Please Commander, have a seat. There's no simple way to explain this. But I'll try and be brief."

Trip sat down and put his arm around T'Pol. She was fighting desperately for control. The ProConsul continued.

"When I was a young man, I craved adventure. So I joined Romulan intelligence. As you might have surmised, my family is somewhat well-connected."

The ProConsul gestured modestly at their surroundings.

"I was given an assignment to go deep uncover on Vulcan - taking the place of a research scientist that had been killed by a Romulan drone. That scientist was the man who was engaged to your mother. I lived as a Vulcan for over fifteen years. Married your mother. Had you. But eventually, I was called home. A large military campaign was beginning on the other side of the empire and my father and uncles felt it would be more profitable and politically expedient if I helped with that campaign. So, the Vulcan that was your father 'died' in an accident."

T'Pol looked the man straight in the eye. Trip felt shock turning into unadulterated rage, though to him the pinched look on her face was hardly a tip off. She stayed silent.

"Dear one, I thought very much about taking you with me. But by then you seemed like such a Vulcan child. I didn't think you'd fit in among us Romulans. Little did I know that you would spent your adulthood getting as far away from Vulcans as you could."

The ProConsul's eyes met Trip's. He seemed friendly, but Trip sensed that this was a man who could command armadas and armies as easily as he could get a distraught woman a glass of water.

"It doesn't surprise me at all that your Romulan side would be attracted to humans. We don't deny are passions the way the Vulcans do. I understand we Romulans have that in common with humans."

"Mother. . . she died believing you were dead," whispered T'Pol, who was suddenly thinking about her mother's stoic Vulcan grief in the face of this man's "death."

"Unfortunate, as I had grown to care for her, but it could not be helped. "

The ProConsul spoke intently, and Trip thought that it wouldn't be wise of T'Pol to lay a Vulcan guilt-trip on this man.

"Anyway, as you both know, there have been incidents lately between the Empire and you out-worlders. A few of these incidents - I know for a fact - you both were involved in. I've grown concerned. Concerned not only about you T'Pol, but about the future. Opposing the Romulan Star Empire is a fool's game - and the humans and their new allies ought to realize this. But there will be time enough to talk about that later....Did you dine aboard the warbird? If not, I'll have my chef prepare anything you'd like. He hasn't any experience with human food I'm afraid but he does a fair bit of Vulcan cuisine."

T'Pol pushed her rage down. Thankfully, she had meditated every day of their captivity aboard the ship. She took a deep breath.

"I've had my genome studied extensively. I'm a full-blooded Vulcan."

The ProConsul raised an eyebrow and smirked in a very un-Vulcan-like way.

"I'll let you in on a secret. The Romulan and Vulcan genomes are nearly identical. They can't be distinguished unless you know what you are looking for."

T'Pol, like many Vulcans, had heard the rumors that Romulans and Vulcans were distantly related. She had never believed them.

"Ah, you have some of your mother's skepticism, I see. Well, I do remember the stars on your bedroom ceiling. When you were just tiny thing we used to count them together and then imagine equations that would determine their distance from one another...it doesn't surprise me that you would find a career as a science officer. That came from your mother. The intelligence officer part, I believe you got from me. Along with your bravery in battle, I think I'll take credit for that, too. More than once I've read reports of your endeavors on the Enterprise, only to assume they had been enhanced by an intelligence officer looking to flatter my ego. Then, I get verification. I'm particularly impressed with your destruction of the Delphic Expanse spheres. Fine work there. Both of you. I doubt a Romulan squadron could have done better."

The ProConsul looked very intently at his daughter.

"I think you would have fit in very well among your cousins and half-siblings on Romulus. But there's no use in wondering what might have been. . .I simply wanted you to know the truth of who you are and who I am. There's a darkness coming - and I fear there's nothing you or I or anyone can do to stop the inevitable. . ."

A Reman arrived with bottle of Romulan Ale.

"Please, Commander Tucker, have a drink. This isn't ordinary Romulan Ale. It's the finest vintage there is."

Trip stood up. He reached out and took a glass that was offered to him by the Reman.

"It's the least I can do for my new father-in-law," said Trip.

The Proconsul raised his glass and clinked it with the first human he had ever met.

"Family is the most import thing to Romulans," said the ProConsul, "And the fact that you're now family supercedes the unfortunate fact that you are not Romulan."

"And I'll try not to hold it against you the fact that you abandoned my wife when she was a child," said Trip, "Now, may I ask how long you plan on keeping us here as your guests? We have to rendezvous with our ship in two weeks."

Trip downed the Romulan ale and then worked hard not let it show how much the liquor was affecting him. He'd be damned if he'd give this man the impression that human's were weak. The ProConsul took a deep breath and stared out over the green water. T'Pol looked up at him.

"You're free to go at anytime," he said, "And I do apologize for the dramatic way I brought you here. My position does not allow me to leave Romulan space unaccompanied by less then ten warbirds. As you can imagine, that would make a visit to Vulcan or Earth. . tense. I also believed T'Pol would require proof and would dismiss a message as some kind of deception. Plus, I confess, I wanted to impress upon her - and you Commander Tucker - the nature of my position within the empire. I expect that in the coming years, I might be of use.

The ProConsul sat next to his long lost child on the chaise but made no move to touch her. T'Pol sat up straight and her face became a mask of Vulcan serenity.

That's the most Vulcan I've seen her look years, thought Trip, but she's in danger of unraveling.

The ProConsul took a ring off his finger and placed it in T'Pol's hand. It was made of some sort of alloy and had an elaborate Romulan design - like a vine - woven all around it. It also had a white, ghostly stone embedded it.

"Inside this ring is a beacon that can travel quickly through subspace. Turn the stone three times and the signal will find me where ever I am. And it will let me know where you are and that you need my help. But I would caution you not to abuse it. There are limits to even my power within the empire."

T'Pol looked at him.

"No," he said, "I promise you. I only sends a signal when you ask it to do so. I won't be able to track you unless you activate it. Go ahead. You can study it when you return. Oh...and one more thing."

The ProConsul pulled a knife out from under his belt. Trip was about to try and take it when the Romulan simply cut off a lock of his hair. He wrapped the hair in a cloth from on the table and gave that to T'Pol, too.

"Genetic tests don't lie," he said, "You'll be able to confirm my identity when you return to your ship. I understand your Dr. Phlox's find interspecies mating quite fascinating."

Trip felt sadness deep inside T'Pol. His words reminded her of Elizabeth. T'Pol searched this man, this stranger's face for some hint that he knew what she was thinking. But he said nothing.

"Please, if you stay one night, it will be much easier on the crew of the ship. Some of them are taking leave on the dark side of this moon. There are fascinating caves on the lower continent...One night. That's all I ask. Then you may return to home. . .Earth, that is your home, is it not?"

T'Pol stood up and tucked the ring and cloth into her bag.

"Enterprise," she said, "Enterprise is our home."

"It's up to you," said Trip.

"We'll stay one night," said Trip.

The ProConsul smiled broadly, something Trip found eerie and incongruous in such a Vulcan-looking person.

"Good. I've had your things brought to your room. We'll dine on my yacht this evening. The planet puts on quite a show this time of year. . .oh, and dear one, the longer you stay the longer and more detailed a report you'll have to make to Vulcan. . .and I would imagine Earth's intelligence. I hear they are very curious about us Romulans."

A Reman appeared and led Trip and T'Pol to their room. Hand in hand, they followed him toward one of the staircases.

"Oh...and dear one," said the ProConsul, "Congratulations on your wedding."

 

________________________

 

Nearly a week later, Trip and T'Pol found themselves on an Andorian space station orbiting a multi-species colony.

T'Pol sat at a desk, ostensibly working but really staring down at the odd, harsh-looking terrain of the planet below. She thought of all the various species she had heard lived on that colony. Including Vulcans, Andorians and Humans. Even though their governments' didn't always get along - these pioneers and traders did. Somehow, that was comforting in the wake of her recent and unexpected visit to Romulan space.

"I just heard from the Captain. Enterprise is coming here to pick us up. They'll be here in about three days - assuming they don't get into to trouble on the way. . . Have you finished your report?"

T'Pol pushed a pad towards him. Trip knew how hard it must have been for her to write. Vulcans did not like getting personal and both of them agreed that it was absolutely necessary to be truthful about what happened. Although, Starfleet and the Vulcan High Command both agreed that this would be kept top secret. The details would be kept hidden even to everyone on Enterprise, except for Captain Archer. Trip knew T'Pol was having a hard enough time being known as the Vulcan with a human husband everywhere she went. Being known as the half-Romulan with a human husband might be too much even for her.

"Do you think that if the doctor's who created her had known that I had Romulan in my genome - that Elizabeth would have survived?" asked T'Pol.

Trip knelt down next to her and grabbed her hand. They were in white space.

"There's no way to know that," he said.

"No," she said, "But I'm beginning to know what her life would have been like. Torn between two worlds, not belonging anywhere."

"You belong with me. And you belong on Enterprise."

She let go of his hand.

"Thank you," she said. Her face was a mask again. No hint of the pain inside.

"You know, I can't wait to get home." Trip kissed her lightly on the lips before standing up and beginning to pack.

She said nothing but she reached into her bag and pulled out the ring her father had given her. She knew and Trip knew what the results of Phlox's DNA test would be. And both understood that what may be coming in the days ahead and that Enterprise and its crew had not seen the last of dark times.   
________________________________


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything  


* * *

Vulcan legends and myths had told stories of a breakaway sect made up of those who rejected Surak's teaching. During the Time of the Awakening, this lost tribe had left Vulcan and disappeared into the cosmos. Some historians believed that, like all mythology, there was a historical basis for the tales of the lost tribe. Several had even posited the idea of Romulans being members of this group, given the rumors of their resemblance to Vulcans. But all of this had been conjecture based on second and third hand accounts. There were no documented, proven encounters with Romulans in the Vulcan database.

Until now.

T'Pol examined the genome taken from her father's hair. There were a few tiny mutations, such as would be expected from a population isolated for 5,000 years, but otherwise the genome was identical. For all practical purposes, Romulans were Vulcans and Vulcans were Romulans.

"It's astounding," said Phlox, "How science can solve civilization's greatest mysteries."

T'Pol sighed.

"But the good news is," continued the doctor, "You're as Vulcan as you ever were. There's nothing in this genome that anyone could say isn't Vulcan. There's no reason this should affect you in any way or any reason to believe it would have ever affected you."

T'Pol examined the scans. Vulcans earn their emotional control. It doesn't come from their DNA. If anything, Vulcans gets their passionate and violent nature from their genes and their disciplined minds from their culture. Perhaps that means, she thought, that she could still regain some of the emotional control she had lost in the Expanse. Things had improved over the last year and a half, but there was more ground to be gained.

"The man this came from," said T'Pol, "Seemed to think otherwise."

"Well," said Phlox, "It doesn't sound like Romulans are ones to embrace logic."

T'Pol nodded.

"By the way," said Phlox, "I received a joint order from Starfleet Command and Section 31. This conversation, these scans and everything to do with you and Commander Tucker's adventure in Romulan space has been deemed classified."

T'Pol nodded again. She and Trip had already been debriefed. As far as everyone except the captain and Phlox knew, she and Trip had been kidnapped by Klingons in an attempt to get ransom from Starfleet. Romulan and Klingon ships were of similar design, enough to convince most people on that Vulcan transport of the cover story.

"Thank you, doctor," said T'Pol as she exited.

"By the way," said Phlox, "Congratulations on your wedding."

T'pol nodded and took her leave.

 

______________________________

 

T'Pol returned to what was now her and Trip's quarters, a space created by cutting a door into the quarters next to hers. It was still relatively cramped, but it would be home. Not a temporary home, but the real thing. T'Pol had no one on Vulcan left, and Trip had told her after Elizabeth died that he no longer felt at home on Earth.

T'Pol looked up at the picture of baby Elizabeth sitting on Trip's desk. Because she had lived and died, Trip had told her, he had lost his connection to his homeworld.

He had told her so after they had buried the child on Vulcan. In his head he knew that Terra Prime was not representative of the majority, but in his heart, he felt betrayed by his own people. He couldn't walk down the street without wondering if the strangers who stared at him and T'Pol did so in pity or disgust.

Ironic, that a child created to foster hate had been so loved by its accidental parents. Perhaps it was the ultimate repudiation of Terra Prime that Elizabeth's death had evoked an outpouring of sympathy from most humans. Most, but not all. Either way, Trip didn't want to be an object of pity or revulsion.

Since Elizabeth's death, Trip told her that he only felt at home on Enterprise. T'Pol felt the same. It seemed only natural, then, that they would continue to serve on the ship that brought them together and try to rebuild their lives together.

She hadn't thought it was possible. After they buried Elizabeth, she assumed it would be the end of her and Trip's love affair, despite their bond. Humans didn't deal well with grief, and the death of a child often tore human couples apart. Trip had said as much. But Vulcans reacted differently to grief. If anything, losing a child made the mating bond stronger, all the better to share feelings that were so deep and taboo they could never be outwardly expressed. The fact that Trip knew, actually felt, how ripped to shreds she was inside, drew him to her. Never again would they feel the pure joy that had shared before Elizabeth's death, but that innocence had been replaced by something deeper - something that no on else could understand. For both of them, it meant they could not be apart.

However, no announcement had been made about the wedding. Trip and T'Pol had married privately on Vulcan and only told select friends and family, cautioning them to keep the news quiet. If asked, people were to say that they didn't know what the status of the relationship was. After Elizabeth, Trip and T'Pol had no intention of allowing their marriage to become a lightening rod for hate groups, Vulcan or Human. The crew of Enterprise would know, of course, and there would be rumors. But they would be nothing but rumors.

Trip entered. He was still in uniform, clearly tired from a long day. He sat down on the couch next to T'Pol and was quiet for a long while.

"Phlox says that the Romulan and Vulcan genome are identical," said T'Pol after awhile.

Trip inhaled sharply. While a relief to T'Pol, the fact that Romulans and Vulcans were essentially the same race was a bombshell that could threaten the fledgling Earth/Vulcan/Andorian/Tellaride alliance. It was going to have to remain classified information - as was his wife's newly discovered parentage.

"Do you think there will be a war?" asked T'Pol. She spoke the question with the same intonation she would have if she had asked about the weather.

"I don't know," said Trip, "But given the nature of things . . .the way humanoids always tend to . . .well, I would not bet against it."

T'Pol slipped her hand into Trip's. She knew he was thinking of Malcolm and his's mission on the drone ship. And their encounter with her father. Even back to the Expanse, where a good man like Degra could be so easily manipulated into mass murder. The very nature of people pointed to a long, frightening conflict in which there would likely be no winners.

_Where did you hide the ring?_

_It's in the lower cabinet, inside an antique human purse that belonged to my second foremother._

T'Pol had told Starfleet command everything about her trip to Romulan space except the gift of the ring. Before their debriefing, she and Trip had shown the captain and he had requested they hold back that piece of information.

"They'll try and deconstruct it - or worse," Jon had said, "And I don't think they'll be able to. All those bureaucrats will do is ruin the one chance you might have of contacting a powerful Romulan. We can't take the chance. We might need to use this one day," he had said and ordered her and Trip to keep silent about the ring.

_Nice of the captain to order us. That way its on him, not us._

_Yes. Though I plan to never use it._

T'Pol pulled the box out from lower cabinet and carefully removed the handbag that had belonged to T'Mir. It was here that she had hidden the ring.

"That looks very Earth-like," remarked Trip. "Not Vulcan at all."

"It isn't Vulcan. My second foremother obtained it on Earth. I told you and the captain about her visit."

_You said that was just a story._

_I never said that was just a story. You just assumed it was just a story. I merely chose not to correct you._

Trip noticed mischief in her eyes. Yeah, Vulcans had a subtle sense of humor, but they definitely had one. And pulling one over on humans was hilarious to a Vulcan.

"Well, I'm glad she didn't land in Florida. If she had, no doubt one of my Tucker ancestors would have had to sweep her off her feet - and you might never have been born."

T'Pol would have responded, but she was too busy pondering the strange expression - "swept her off her feet" - it seemed like an unusual way to court a woman - removing her from the ground.

She removed the ring from the bag and held it up to the light.

â€œItâ€™s an unusual device,â€ she said, â€œand it has a very strange energy signature even when it is off.â€

Trip shook his head.

â€œThe Romulans have been isolated in their own quadrant for five thousand years. They have technology that we can barely understand. Iâ€™m sure they developed some of it and stole some of it, too.â€

Trip felt anger stir inside her, and he knew she was imaging what would happen if she tossed the ring into the warp core. He reached up and gently put his hand atop hers and guided her hand down. He took the ring from her.

â€œPromise me that you wonâ€™t destroy this,â€ he said.

She looked at him, and it was clear she didnâ€™t want to make that promise.

â€œIf not for yourself, promise for the Captain,â€ said Trip in a low voice, â€œYou know thereâ€™s been more drone attacks in the last six months. Things are starting to get ugly. . .and this may come in handy. I donâ€™t know when or how, but we shouldnâ€™t destroy the potential to contact . . .him.â€

Trip placed the ring back in Tâ€™Mirâ€™s bag. Tâ€™Pol took the bag and returned it to its hiding place. Only three people knew of the ringâ€™s existence - besides her father, of course.

â€œI donâ€™t even know his real name,â€ said Tâ€™Pol blankly.

Trip reached up and brushed her cheek with with his hand, and he knew there was nothing he could say to console her. She was going to have to come to terms with the identity of her father on her own. All he could do was be there for her, if she needed comfort. He couldnâ€™t pretend to understand. That was what was hard about the bond. He knew what she felt, and yet he couldnâ€™t really comprehend her feelings. He had always known exactly who he was, even if it was plain, old Charles Tucker III.

â€œYouâ€™re the same person youâ€™ve always been,â€ said Trip, â€œYouâ€™ve just gotten a piece of new information.â€

He reached out took her into his arms. She placed her head on his shoulder and sighed. This form of affection was foreign to her, but she had come to enjoy it. She felt Tripâ€™s heartbeat, and it comforted her.

â€œI wonder if my mother knew,â€ she said, â€œThey were married. I thought they were bonded - the way we are.â€

Trip stroked her hair and kissed her on the top of her head.

â€œThereâ€™s no point in dwelling on things youâ€™ll never know. . .your mother did love him. She told me so.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow.

â€œNot in so many words...but in her Vulcan way.â€

Tâ€™Pol sighed. She missed her mother every day, almost as much as she missed Elizabeth. Trip stayed silent for a long while, sharing her grief through the bond.

After he felt her sorrow subside, Trip moved to get up.

â€œI think I need to get in the shower. . .if I donâ€™t, Iâ€™ll just fall asleep. .â€

Tâ€™Pol pulled him back down next to her and crawled into his lap. She placed one hand on the back of his neck and reached up to kiss him on the lips. She slipped her tongue in his mouth and placed her other hand on his chest - as if daring him to get up.

â€œHoney. . .I told you. . . havenâ€™t showered. . â€œ

â€œI like the way you smell,â€ she whispered as her hands found the zipper of his uniform.

He didnâ€™t need to be told twice. His hands slipped underneath her shirt and caressed her breasts for a moment before he removed the garment.

Still seated in his lap, she could feel how turned on he was. She kept kissing him on the mouth as she rubbed against him. He moaned in response.

Suddenly, he rose up, taking her with him. He carried into their room and put her down on the bed and quickly removed the rest of her clothes. She reclined against the pillow and watched him. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots and the rest of his uniform.

For a moment, he didnâ€™t move. He just stared her, lying there in the shadows and starlight. Beneath the desire he felt emanating from her, he could feel the pain she was suppressing.

Perhaps this will work better than meditation, he thought, as his hand gently moved up her thigh. Over the last few months, he had introduced her to the human practice of using sex as salve for grief. She had helped him so much in those months after Elizabeth died. Sometimes, it had been gentle and soft with her. Often, it had been primal, bordering on the rough. Tonight, he sensed it was to be somewhere in between.

His hands slipped between her legs, where she was wet and quivering. She whispered forbidden words in Vulcan as he stroked her. She had taught him those forbidden words; words that had been long ago banished from polite Vulcan society. Words only spoken between mates.

He stopped caressing her and crawled up next to her. She pulled him down into a searing kiss, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She reached down between his legs and returned his earlier caresses, only harder and faster. But he didnâ€™t want this to end too soon, so he grabbed both her hands and pinned them on either side of her head.

â€œSay it,â€ he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

He looked into her eyes. After all this time, she still hated saying it aloud. And he loved making her say it. He shifted her hands higher above her head, so he could keep them pinned with one hand. He reached down with the other and started to make small circles on her belly.

â€œYouâ€™re not going to get what you want, until you say it,â€ he said.

She drew in a breath. She knew she could break free if she really wanted, but she didnâ€™t want to.

â€œI love you,â€ she whispered.

He looked down at her and smiled. He waited.

â€œI love you, Trip.â€

â€œThatâ€™s my girl,â€ he whispered, letting her hands go and covering her mouth with his.

She reached down and helped him slip inside her, crying out softly as he did so. He waited just a moment before starting to move inside her - first slowly, then faster and harder. She clutched at him tightly, scratching at his back. He whispered English words into her ear, ones that he had had to teach her.

She began trembling, and he moved faster.

â€œThatâ€™s it, baby,â€ he whispered, â€œI know youâ€™re close.â€

She nodded, eyes closed.

â€œCâ€™mon, thatâ€™s it,â€ he continued, pushing harder.

Suddenly, her whole body spasmed. She cried out, muffling the sound against his shoulder. She clutched at him, her mind dizzy and euphoric.

Through the bond, he felt what she did. It triggered his own release, and he fainted in her arms.

Minutes later, his eyes fluttered open. She was staring at him, her face again like glass.

â€œIâ€™m glad I was able to help you relax,â€ he said.

â€œSo am I,â€ she said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.  


* * *

Tâ€™Pol slept better than she had for weeks, a deep dreamless, Vulcan sleep. Trip, on the other hand, dreamt of Romulan Drone ships, hundreds of them heading toward Earth. He awoke with a start in the night, grateful to find himself safely on Enterprise. He looked over at Tâ€™Pol, who still slept quietly next to him.

Trip got up and silently made his way into the next room. As much as he would have enjoyed her company, she needed her rest. Instead, he sat down at the computer and began accessing the technical specs, what little they had of them, on Romulan Drone ships, Romulan Mines and Romulan Warbirds. It was all classified information, but since he had provided much of it, he had all the necessary clearances. Romulan technology outstripped the Vulcans and Andorians, never mind Earthâ€™s ships and weapons.

Tâ€™Polâ€™s father seemed to think a war was inevitable. And he had warned them. Why? If he was so worried about them, he could have kept them there. Itâ€™s not as though they would have had a chance in hell of escaping that place. Maybe he was hoping to convince them to sit out the war, go somewhere safe. Or maybe he just felt guilty for abandoning Tâ€™Pol and wanted to somehow assuage that guilt.

Trip started to feel angry again. He gazed over at the picture of baby Elizabeth. He had known her for such a short time, and yet he would have died before abandoning her - given just about anything to have her back.

Although, thought Trip, the man had gone through a whole hell of a lot of trouble to see Tâ€™Pol again. Trip didnâ€™t know much about Romulan regulations, but he guessed Tâ€™Polâ€™s father had taken a spectacular risk by abducting them. On the other hand, thought Trip, the man also seemed arrogant to a fault. Maybe he didnâ€™t even care about the risk. Or maybe he was powerful enough that there was no risk. That was a hell of a summer cottage.

And, worse still, he had clearly been keeping tabs on Tâ€™Pol her whole life. That meant the Romulans had sources in the now-defunct Vulcan High Command and in Starfleet. Trip placed his face in his hands.

They look just like Vulcans. They can blend in anywhere. Thatâ€™s nearly as scary as their use of drone ships and minefields.

â€œThese bastards are dangerous,â€ whispered Trip.

****

The next day, Trip was in Jonâ€™s ready room, making his usual engineering reports. Afterwards, Jon leaned back in his chair.

â€œHowâ€™s Tâ€™Pol?â€ he asked.

â€œAre you asking me as her fellow officer or as her husband?â€ asked Trip.

Jon shook his head. He hadnâ€™t spoken to Trip about the kidnapping, at least not without Tâ€™Pol or members of Starfleet Intelligence present.

â€œBoth I guess. We both know sheâ€™s been through hell and back the last couple of years. But this new revelation - itâ€™s of great concern to Starfleet. Itâ€™s not that they donâ€™t trust her, they do. But the think this man - this ProConsul - his interest in her could put the ship at risk.â€

Trip exhaled sharply. He couldnâ€™t deny that. He didnâ€™t think the ProConsul would do anything to directly harm Tâ€™Pol, but just being on his radar didnâ€™t feel comfortable.

â€œThat man doesnâ€™t give shit about this ship,â€ said Trip, â€œOr the life of anyone aboard except her.â€ Trip paused. â€œAnd to a lesser extent me because. . . because I think he wouldnâ€™t want to upset her. As strange as that sounds.â€

Trip puzzled on that notion for a moment. He didnâ€™t quite understand why Tâ€™Polâ€™s father had been so polite to him. It had to be a Romulan thing.

â€œWhat was he like?â€ asked Jon, â€œNot what you put in the report. But what was your take on him, really?â€

Jon reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He poured two generous glasses and handed Trip one, who took a big gulp.

â€œIntimidating,â€ replied Trip, â€œThe people under his command seemed frightened of him. They werenâ€™t about to disobey his orders. Orders of a personal nature.â€

Archer took a sip of his own drink.

â€œWe donâ€™t have much sense of their social hierarchy. It does seem that they havenâ€™t any prohibitions on sending their personnel on private missions.â€

â€œAn entire warbird,â€ said Trip, â€œwas sent to retrieve us. But I did get the sense from the officer we dealt with - Ravel - that she found her mission unusual. But that she wasnâ€™t in a position to protest.â€

â€œI wouldnâ€™t like personal errands for Admiral Williams, especially ones that involved kidnappingâ€ said Jon, â€œBut what little intelligence we have indicates the Romulans have a rigid class system, which likely translates into their command structure. We also know that they have been spying on the Vulcans for years.â€

â€œAnd probably Earth,â€ said Trip, â€œThe man knew details of our mission. He knew all about our encounter with the Minefield way back when. . and the drone. . .he knew classified details. . .brought them up over dinner like he was mentioning football scores.â€

Jon thought for a moment.

â€œItâ€™s an old intelligence trick, reveal details of what you already know to intimidate. . .throw your target off guard.â€

â€œIt worked,â€ said Trip, â€œBut there wasnâ€™t anything we could have revealed to him that he didnâ€™t already seem to know.â€

Jon downed the rest of his drink and poured another.

*****

Tâ€™Pol entered the armory and found Malcolm there, working alone.

â€œGood evening, Lt. Commander Reed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Malcolm smiled, still getting used to his new rank. He was still getting used to the sight of her in Starfleet blues.

â€œI wish to speak with you,â€ continued Tâ€™Pol as she looked around the room to be certain no one else was there.

â€œWas there something in the armory report that concerned you?â€

Tâ€™Pol approached him at the console.

â€œItâ€™s not about the armory. I wanted to speak to you in your capacity as an agent of Section 31.â€

Malcolm sucked in his breath.

â€œI donâ€™t work for them anymore.â€

â€œNo more than I work for Vulcan Intelligence,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œBut I believe that Section 31 has contacted you regarding Commander Tucker and mineâ€™s recent foray into Romulan Space.â€

Malcolm concentrated on the screen before him, entering data. He knew he was about to have a spook to spook conversation. He looked at Tâ€™Pol, standing in her Vulcan posture, wearing her Starfleet uniform. Once a spook, always a spook. It was the same on Vulcan as it was on Earth. Malcolm realized that Tâ€™Pol was probably the only person on the ship who really understood that.

â€œYou mean your foray into Klingon space?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow.

â€œAll right,â€ said Malcolm, â€œThey sent me the report, but Starfleet Command isnâ€™t supposed to know I know.â€

Tâ€™Pol still said nothing.

â€œIf it comes up, Iâ€™ll tell the Captain I know. My loyalty is to him first.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. She empathized with Malcolm. At least serving on a human ship, such conflicts of interest rarely came up.

â€œI would like to know if Section 31 knows any more about the incident than myself,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œYou were there,â€ said Malcolm, â€œIt happened to you and Trip.â€

â€œBut I wish to know whether or not Section 31 knows more about the man who abducted us.â€

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œNo. This was the first theyâ€™d heard of him,â€ he paused, â€œBut they did ask me to watch you carefully. Be certain that your loyalties were still with us. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol closed her eyes. It wasnâ€™t a surprise. It was expected.

â€œI responded that it was nonsense to think that you or Trip would cross over to the Romulan side - whatever the circumstances.â€

â€œBut that didnâ€™t change their. . .request,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol smoothly.

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œI suppose it doesnâ€™t matter. I wasnâ€™t trusted by my own people before this. Now Iâ€™m not trusted by the humans.â€

Malcolm wanted to reach out, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew that wasnâ€™t right, not with a Vulcan. But still, he felt for her.

â€œYouâ€™re trusted by Starfleet. And the captain. And everyone on this ship. We know you,â€ he said.

â€œBut you wonâ€™t show me the report you received from Section 31?â€

Malcolm bit his lip. He looked at Tâ€™Pol, knowing how important it was to her to see the report. How many times had she save his life over the years? He owed her. And Trip. And he owed Section 31 nothing. He had told them as much.

Malcolm tapped into his console for a few moments.

â€œIâ€™m going to go work on the torpedo, over there,â€ said Malcolm as he nodded toward his screen.

Tâ€™Pol nodded back and approached the console. She read carefully. All the details from her debriefing were included followed by a few paragraphs of analysis. These included one line about continuing to observe her behavior, in case she had been turned.

She stepped away.

â€œIf his intention was to win me to their side,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI believe they would have been more discreet,â€ she said, â€œOur abduction was a show of strength on his part. And I got no sense that he was even interested in having me stay,â€ she paused, â€œThank you, Lieu. ..thank you, Malcolm.â€

â€œYouâ€™re welcome, Tâ€™Pol,â€ he said.

*****

The ProConsul stared out over the moonâ€™s ocean, watching the school of Reman whales hunt fish for their dinner. Behind him, he heard footsteps that he recognized. They werenâ€™t the footsteps of Ravel or any of his officers. They were undisciplined steps.

â€œFather?â€ said a young male voice.

The ProConsul turned around to look at his youngest child, Ston. The young man was tall and thin, with a mop of reddish hair and dark eyes. He had just finished his formal schooling, and the ProConsul was considering his future. The boy was exceptionally bright, but he did not seem to have an aptitude for combat. Unlike all his other children, Ston could not handle himself in a fight, which was probably due to the fact that his mother had come from a breakaway sect of pacifists that Ston had been sent to deal with some 35 years earlier.

â€œRavel told me that you brought my sister here,â€ said Ston.

â€œWhat business is that of yours?â€ asked The ProConsul, though he knew the answer to that question. The ProConsul had 3 children by his Romulan wife, all sons. He had one half-Vulcan daughter, and he had one illegitimate son, Ston. Ston had always been fixated on the notion that he had a sister somewhere, one he imagined would be kinder to him than his brothers had been.

The ProConsul looked his disheveled son up and down and wondered if he had made a mistake by even acknowledging him. Sometimes, he thought boy would have been better off being raised among his motherâ€™s miserable people. He had brought the boy to Romulus because he didnâ€™t want to make the same mistake he had with Tâ€™Pol, but instead it often seemed he made a bigger mistake with Ston.

The ProConsul thought of his daughter Tâ€™Pol and how proud he could have been of her had she been raised properly. She was a true Romulan at heart - a warrior, a scientist and a woman who did not suppress her passions. He should never have left her to be raised by Vulcans, and her unorthodox life seemed to prove that. The ProConsul thought of his daughter and the choices sheâ€™d made, ones that would taint her in the eyes of any Vulcan - or Romulan for that matter. Marrying a man from an inferior species was, well, unacceptable. On the other hand, the ProConsul knew exactly was it was like to love someone who was inferior - it had happened to him twice. And neither time he had had the courage to . . .well, that was past.

Over the years, he had read of her joining the intelligence service and then leaving for the diplomatic service and then finding her way into service on the human vessel.

The ProConsul had never heard of Earth or humans until he got the report of his daughter being stationed there. He had then learned everything he could about the race, and he had been impressed despite himself. These humans, he thought, had come a very long way in a short time. And they had had the good sense to chafe against the Vulcan High Command. Certainly, they were weak and they were unsophisticated. But under the right tutelage, humans could become valuable servants of the empire.

In any case, it was a great regret that he did not take Tâ€™Pol with him to be raised on Romulus. Ston, on the other hand, proved to be more problematic. The ProConsul was always proud of his academic abilities, which were always the highest in his class. But the boy was over-sensitive to violence - refusing to hunt and botching any combat lessons he was given. He wasnâ€™t physically weak, on the contrary, Ston was a fine athlete. He just didnâ€™t seem to like killing. Much like his mother.

â€œWhat was she like?â€ asked Ston.

â€œShe carried herself with admirable grace,â€ said the ProConsul, â€œAnd she is a woman of great accomplishment.â€

Ston nodded.

â€œIs she pretty?â€ asked Ston. He wanted his big sister to be pretty.

â€œYes,â€ said the ProConsul, â€œBut then again her mother was beautiful, so it is not a surprise.â€

Ston gazed out at the school of whales, standing next to his father.

â€œI want to meet her. Can I meet her?â€ he said.

The ProConsul laughed.

â€œYouâ€™re a fool, Ston,â€ he said, â€œOf course you canâ€™t meet her. Sheâ€™s a Vulcan. Moreover, she lives among the out-worlders. Sheâ€™s married to a human. She serves on an Earth vessel. I am fortunate to have even been able to bring her here once.â€

Ston looked down at his feet in shame, but he was also angry.

â€œSheâ€™s only half-Vulcan. You could have kept her here,â€ spat Ston.

â€œI am not in the habit of keeping my children prisoner,â€ said The Proconsul loudly, â€œAnd even if I were to have kept her here, she would have hated me for it. I do not wish for her to hate me,â€ said the ProConsul, surprising himself with his own words. He also couldnâ€™t help thinking how indifferent he was to Stonâ€™s hate.

â€œYou should have let me meet her,â€ said Ston, â€œI would like to know about Vulcan - what it's really like. And Earth.â€

The ProConsul shook his head. He had no idea what he was going to do with his son.

****

Tâ€™Pol returned to her quarters late that night and found that Trip had already gone to bed. She quietly removed her uniform and got into the shower, allowing the hot water to massage her skin. She closed her eyes and felt the stress of her situation well up. She knew she needed to meditate. Quietly, she dried herself off and made her way into the living room and lit a candle.

She closed her eyes and gently concentrated. The swirl of emotions that had gripped her since her visit with Malcolm slowly subsided and drained out of her. The familiar peace overtook her. She breathed in and out, calmly and in a steady rhythm. Serenity filled her, body and soul. But when she went deeper, she sensed something was wrong with Trip. Images of the drone ship filled her head.

She got up and went into the bedroom. Trip was asleep, his breathing erratic. She knew he was dreaming about the Romulans. She knelt next to him and slipped her hand into his. She sent whatever serenity should could to him, through their bond. The dreams calmed, as did his breathing. She slipped in bed beside he and watched his face as he slept.

She was responsible for his concerns about the Romulans. If she werenâ€™t his wife, he would not have have been kidnapped, and he would not be burdened with the knowledge of what was coming. Although she knew better to regret their bond, she still resolved to protect him as best she could. The least she could do was give him the gift of a dreamless Vulcan sleep.

****

Trip woke up early, as was his habit. Tâ€™Pol was also an early riser, and she was already awake and dressed. He could see her through the door. She heard him stir and brought him a cup of coffee - just the way he liked it. For someone who didnâ€™t drink coffee, she had gotten good at making it.

â€œThanks,â€ he said.

â€œI believe you will need the caffeine since your dreams were troubled last night,â€ she said, returning to the living room to fetch her cup of mint tea.

Trip sipped on his coffee.

â€œYou could tell I was having nightmares?â€

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œAnd I feel responsible since they are about Romulans.â€

Trip restrained himself from rolling his eyes. It was just like her Vulcan mind to blame herself for the current situation with the Romulans. He beckoned her to come and sit down with her. She acquiesced and sat on the edge of the bed.

â€œYouâ€™re right that Iâ€™m worried about the situation with the Romulans. . .but if anything Iâ€™m grateful to you. It seems to me that without our recent visit to Romulan space weâ€™d have a lot less information than we do. Iâ€™m sure the Vulcans and Starfleet are grateful for the information. . â€œ

Trip leaned over and caressed his wifeâ€™s hair.

â€œThey are grateful. They are also worried I might join my fatherâ€™s people. Betray the alliance.â€

â€œWhat?â€ he snapped.

She felt a burst of anger coming from him, so strong that she had to fight for emotional control. She was about to answer him, but he interrupted.

â€œI canâ€™t believe that. . .after everything youâ€™ve done. . .after all that weâ€™ve done. . .after youâ€™ve saved their Vulcan hides and . . . and after you all youâ€™ve done on this ship. . I . .I ought to . .â€

She raised that familiar eyebrow, simultaneously pleased at his outrage and irritated by his outward expression of it.

â€œThey are merely concerned,â€ she said, â€œAnd rightfully so. I would imagine my father could offer a great deal to me. . .to us. . .if he wanted to. But it seems he didnâ€™t want to.â€

Trip shook his head. He had his own ideas on this subject.

â€œDarlinâ€™,â€ said Trip, â€œHe wanted to, he just knew you wouldnâ€™t accept. Your Daddy seemed like a man who wouldnâ€™t take rejection well. And if he has been keeping tabs on you all these years, heâ€™d at least know where your loyalties are. . .I doubt heâ€™d ever betray his people or his family and no doubt he saw the same quality in you.â€

Tâ€™Pol was silent for a moment.

â€œThen why do you think he brought us there?â€

â€œHe brought you there - I was just tagging along. I think he just wanted to let you know who he was - before this trouble thatâ€™s been brewing busts up into a full blown war. Just in case you needed him.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing. She couldnâ€™t think of a scenario where she would need him, but then wars were not logical endeavors.

****

Later that day, Trip was working in engineering when he got word of a personal, subspace call. It was from his father. Dammit, he thought. I suppose Iâ€™ve been avoiding this long enough. He retuned to his quarters and flipped on the screen to see a very annoyed looking Charles Tucker II.

â€œHi Dad,â€ he said.

â€œHello son,â€ said his father.

â€œThanks for the letter of congratulations,â€ said Trip, â€œTâ€™Pol and I appreciated it.â€

Charlie Tucker shook his head at his son.

â€œYouâ€™re mother and I would have sent a gift, if that were possible. Of course, even if it were, we wouldnâ€™t know what was appropriate. Given that you married a Vulcan - one that your mother and I havenâ€™t even met.â€

Trip bit his lip. His parents were good people, but they werenâ€™t exactly comfortable with the idea of their son stepping outside the mainstream. They were traditional.

â€œIâ€™ve told you about her. Youâ€™ve gotten my letters.â€

â€œYes. You did talk about her often enough for your mother to get the hint that you two might be - involved. But we didnâ€™t think anything would come of it. Donâ€™t Vulcans have rules against this kind of thing?â€

â€œNot precisely. They do frown on it. But Tâ€™Pol doesnâ€™t care. And neither do I. You know what happened to us - what Terra Prime did. Well, I wouldnâ€™t gotten through that without her.â€ Trip paused, â€œOur daughter Elizabeth. . .she . . .well, you know what happened.â€

â€œI never got to thank you for naming her after your sister,â€ said Charlie, â€œYour Mom and I were real happy you did that.â€

â€œI didnâ€™t do it. Tâ€™Pol did,â€ said Trip, â€œIt was her idea.â€

Charlie seemed genuinely surprised at this news.

â€œIs she around? Can I meet her at least over this comm?â€

â€œSheâ€™s on the bridge. Youâ€™ve called in the middle of the day. Next time Iâ€™ll make sure you get to talk to her. Youâ€™ll like her. . .I promise.â€

Trip hoped that was true. He loved his parents, but the thought of them actually liking a Vulcan stretched credibility. At best, he hoped they would tolerate her.

â€œWe planned on coming to see you,â€ continued Trip, â€œHad we gotten back to Earth. But we got sidetracked.â€

â€œI read about your run-in with the Klingons on the news wire,â€ said Charlie, â€œYou just keep running into trouble out there.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œItâ€™s all part of the job,â€ he lied, â€œBut we made it through. Weâ€™ve both been through worse.â€

â€œWell, take care of yourself son.â€

â€œI will, Dad.â€

Charlie disappeared from the screen. Trip supposed the conversation had gone as best as it could have, under the circumstances. But he found himself wishing it could have gone better.

****

Before returning to Engineering, Trip stopped off in the mess hall and found Malcolm there. Malcolm looked tired and skinny, and he was pushing unfinished food around his plate. Trip realized that he had been so caught up in Tâ€™Polâ€™s problems, he had nearly forgotten that other people on the ship were also dealing with an impending war. And thanks to his bond with Tâ€™Pol, he knew that Malcolm knew the truth about the kidnapping, not to mention other pieces of intelligence. Malcolm, unlike others, wasnâ€™t in a position to be in denial about the coming conflict.

â€œHow are you, Malcolm?â€ asked Trip casually.

â€œExhausted,â€ replied Malcolm truthfully.

Malcolm didnâ€™t know about the bond between Trip and Tâ€™Pol, per say. He did know, however, how close the two were. Closer than most human spouses, he thought. And that meant that Trip knew about Section 31â€™s report to Malcolm.

â€œThanks for helping Tâ€™Pol out yesterday,â€ said Trip, casually confirming what Malcolm already knew.

â€œIt was the least I could do,â€ said Malcolm, â€œGiven the circumstances, weâ€™re all going to have to stick together.â€

Trip glanced over at Malcolm. He hated when Malcolm got cryptic.

â€œMeaning?â€

Malcolm didnâ€™t look Trip in the eye.

â€œMeaning weâ€™re going to be on the front lines of a war. And my guess is sooner rather than later.â€

â€œWeâ€™ve been there before,â€ said Trip, â€œAnd we survived.â€

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œThis is going to be different. Very different. Weâ€™re not going to be dealing with one doomsday weapon. The Romulans have hundreds, maybe thousands of warbirds and drones. Conquest is what they do. . .itâ€™s in their nature,â€ replied Malcolm. As an Englishman, he knew all too well what lust for conquest could do once it gripped a civilization.

â€œIâ€™ve got to believe that we can stop them,â€ said Trip, â€œThat the alliance will hold. . .after everything that happened on Earth. That better angels will prevail. . . .besides, nothing unites people like a common enemy.â€

Trip looked at Malcolm, who he knew to be a natural pessimist.

â€œAnd that may be what saves us,â€ replied Malcolm glumly.

****

Far away, on the edge of Romulan space, Ston had made a decision. He wasnâ€™t going to sit on the sidelines and let life happen to him anymore. He was going to get what he wanted, before it was too late. After his father had left for Romulus, he stayed behind at the cottage. He had told his father that he planned to consider options for further schooling - but that was a ruse.

Instead, Ston contacted a school friend whose father owned a fleet of cargo ships. He inquired as to whether he could hire one out for a trip outside the borders of the empire.

â€œNow, why would you want to do that Ston?â€ Maleek had asked curiously.

â€œSoon travel wonâ€™t be safe,â€ replied Ston, â€œAnd I want to see that part of the galaxy before men like my father pound it into oblivion.â€

Ston had chosen Maleek for this on purpose. Maleek had a sense of adventure, always dashing off to climb mountains or visit far flung sections of the empire. A trek into the out-worlderâ€™s zone would be irresistible to Maleek, he knew. Especially if Stron, who Maleek thought was somewhat weak, suggested the adventure.

â€œI think I can get a crew together,â€ said Maleek.

â€œMake sure it's a ship equipped to masquerade as something other than Romulan. Maybe Vulcan, if you can manage. In case weâ€™re contacted. . .â€

Maleek nodded. Romulan cargo ships often masqueraded as Vulcans or Klingons when they were transporting contraband outside the empire.

â€œI think we can manage that,â€ said Maleek, â€œBut the crew is going to have to be well paid.â€

Ston nodded.

â€œI have plenty of money,â€ he said. After all, his father could be generous to a fault.

â€œWell, then,â€ said Maleek, â€œIâ€™ll have to get back to you when Iâ€™ve put together a crew.â€

â€œI want you here in four days,â€ said Ston. â€œFour days.â€

Maleek nodded and disconnected communications.

Ston felt excitement well up inside him. He had always wanted to do something - anything interesting. And now he was headed into what would soon be a war zone to - well, he didnâ€™t quite know what he planned to do yet. But whatever it was, he knew it would be wonderful.

He brought up a photograph on the screen. The image was of Tâ€™Pol, from her Starfleet file.

â€œSoon,â€ he whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.

Rating: NC-17 Again for sex, drug and alcohol use and a brother with a creepy fixation on his sister, its all about the characters.  


* * *

Archer entered the bridge and sat down in his chair. He had just received an alarming report about a new minefield that appeared around a small, uninhabited system in the vast no manâ€™s land between Romulan Space and that claimed by the new alliance. This no manâ€™s land was shaping up to be the major front in the upcoming conflict.

â€œYou have the coordinates, Travis,â€ he said grimly, â€œTake us there.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Travis.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ said Archer, â€œJoin me in the ready room.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded and followed her captain, where he sat down at his desk.

â€œI just received this report,â€ said Archer, â€œThat another one of those cloaked minefields has appeared. A tellarite freighter happened upon it two days ago, all hands were lost.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing. It wasnâ€™t a surprise that this kind of incident had occurred. If anything, it was a surprise how few of them had occurred.

â€œOur orders are to gather any intelligence as to why the Romulans would stake their claim on this particular system. Thereâ€™s got to be something there they want. And itâ€™s in our best interest to know what that is, whatever it is.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. After their first encounter with a cloaked Romulan minefield, they had learned to modify their sensors to detect the cloaked mines.

â€œWeâ€™ll take whatever scans we can from Enterprise, but a team will probably need take a shuttle down to the surface to investigate whatever we find. Iâ€™ll put you in charge of that.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded again.

â€œThe sensors in Shuttlepod Two have already been modified to detect the mines. But youâ€™ll need to take Travis along to navigate around them. As for the rest of your team, weâ€™ll see when we get there.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded yet again, hands behind her back. Archer paused. He hated getting personal with his crew, but he needed to know if she was okay.

â€œHow are you? I havenâ€™t really spoken to you about what happened since the debriefing.â€

Tâ€™Pol tilted her head to the side a little bit.

â€œIâ€™m fine, Captain.â€

Damn, Vulcans, he thought. I donâ€™t know how Trip does it. He supposed he and Tâ€™Pol must communicate with each other in some way or another.

â€œGlad to hear it,â€ said Archer, â€œI just want you to know that the information you have provided has been invaluable. And I am sure that you will be of great assistance in the upcoming crisis. As you always have been,â€ he said.

â€œThank you, captain,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, hating the fact that the captain felt the need to verbalize this sentiment.

****

Trip and Malcolm were together in the armory, working diligently on adding more power to the various weapons they might need. If they encountered anything other than mines, they would have to be ready. If that were possible, which Malcolm doubted.

â€œHopefully,â€ he said, â€œThis is just a precaution.â€

â€œYou donâ€™t believe that anymore than I do,â€ said Trip. Both of them knew a confrontation was inevitable.

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm evenly, â€œLetâ€™s just say I hope the confrontation comes later rather than sooner. The more time we have to upgrade, the better.â€

Trip examined the console he was working on. He had added several conduits in order to amplify the power.

â€œI canâ€™t argue with you there,â€ he said.

â€œHowâ€™s married life?â€ asked Malcolm, looking to change to the subject.

â€œGood,â€ said Trip, â€œGreat. . .actually. Itâ€™s kind of a miracle considering everything thatâ€™s happened. . â€œ

Malcolm nodded.

â€œHowâ€™s Tâ€™Pol? She seems the same as always to me. Cool as ice. Professional, but I imagine youâ€™re privy to cracks in that armor.â€

Trip didnâ€™t say anything, he just shot Malcolm a look.

â€œIâ€™m not trying to butt in,â€ said Malcolm, â€œBut I am worried for her. I would imagine the Captain is, too. I just want to make sure youâ€™re taking care of her.â€

Trip started to look annoyed, and he remained quiet.

â€œI know you love her,â€ said Malcolm graciously, â€œall Iâ€m saying is. . .hell, I donâ€™t know what Iâ€™m saying. Itâ€™s just that we need her on this mission. And the last thing I want is . . .â€

â€œFor the boys at Section 31 to have their worst fears confirmed?â€

Malcolm returned to his work.

â€œIf you want to put it that way. . .â€ said Malcolm.

Tripâ€™s face relaxed a bit. He knew Malcolm was just concerned, and he was in their corner. Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t have any family left, at least on Vulcan. And he was now estranged from his. The Captain, Malcolm and the rest of the crew were now their family.

â€œI appreciate the concern, Malcolm,â€ said Trip, â€œand while Tâ€™Pol is shaken up, sheâ€™ll be fine. Iâ€™m in a position to know.â€

Something in Tripâ€™s words gave Malcolm pause. Heâ€™s heard his friend say a few things like that before, since returning from Vulcan. Malcolm didnâ€™t know much about Vulcan marriage practices, but he guessed that that steely Vulcan reserve might not be as constant as they let everyone believe. But he knew better than to pry.

â€œI believe you. And if thereâ€™s anything I can do to help either of you,â€ said Malcolm, â€œlet me know.â€

Trip nodded. Section 31 or not, he was glad to have a friend in Malcolm.

****

Ston paced on the bridge of a cargo ship, one that had been designed and built to completely resemble an older Vulcan freighter. It was a perfect disguise. Maleek had seen to it that they all got Vulcan-style clothes and haircuts. That way, any out-worlders they happened to encounter would simply believe them to be Vulcan.

Ston played with his hair a bit and smiled to himself. It wouldnâ€™t be easy, masquerading as a Vulcan, especially since he had never met one. He had only read reports of how they never laughed or smiled or showed any emotion. This was something he could not understand, and he felt very bad for his sister having been raised that way.

â€œWhen will we arrive?â€ he said impatiently to Maleek, who rolled his eyes.

The harbor master at the outpost they had recently stopped at had told them of a system that had been recently annexed by the empire. This action had drawn the attention of the alliance and a ship was allegedly on its way to investigate. The harbor master did not know if it was an Earth ship or not. But Ston had an instinct, a gut feeling that this was the place he would find what he was looking for.

â€œItâ€™s going to be days,â€ snapped Maleek.

Ston nodded.

â€œThen Iâ€™ll be in my quarters,â€ he said, sighing deeply.

Once there, Ston continued to pace. He was nervous, didnâ€™t know what he would do. He didnâ€™t want to frighten or overwhelm his sister. In fact, he had resolved that he might have to take a subtle approach in meeting her. He looked in the mirror and did his best to effect a cool, Vulcan-like demeanor. He would show no emotion in his face. That worked for about two minutes before a sly grin appeared. But in the moment, when he needed to, Ston was certain he could keep his cool.

Ston had decided it was unlikely that his Vulcan sister would accept a long-lost Romulan brother right away. But he thought she might want to make a new Vulcan friend, seeing that she was so far from home.

****

Trip arrived home to find Tâ€™Pol seated in front of a candle, eyes-closed, meditating. She didnâ€™t even open her eyes, though he knew she knew he was there. He tiptoed around her and into the bedroom where he quietly undressed. He was glad she had found the time to go into a deep meditative state. While she was in that state, the bond was very vague, but he could still feel serenity emanating from her mind.

And he needed the serenity. All the preparations for the upcoming mission were taxing him and his crew. It wasnâ€™t as though they hadnâ€™t been through worse, but the Romulans were menacing enough to make everyone a little jumpy.

Trip shed his uniform, carefully placing it in the laundry. The mere idea that he would leave in on the floor might snap Tâ€™Pol out of her bliss. Vulcans were neatniks, he had learned. Now and then he left the pillows on the bed disorderly just to see how long it would take for her to straighten them, which she often did without thinking.

What he needed was a nice, long shower. He went turned on the hot water on. Soon, the small room filled with steam, and the water cleansed away the dust, sweat and grime from engineering.

In his mind, he felt the serenity gently dissipate. She had finished her meditation.

_Care to join me?_

A few moments later, he looked up to see her standing in the bathroom door. She slowly unbuttoned her top and hung it on the hook behind the door. She slipped out of her pajama pants and hung those up as well, but she made no move toward the shower. She just stood there.

Trip grinned at her. He lifted a finger and crooked it at her, knowing fully how illogical it was for her to get under the water again since she showered earlier. But she was going to have to humor him. And he fully intended for her to get wet in more ways than one.

She raised an eyebrow and finally approached him. He made room for her next to him and gently pulled her under the water with him. Looking into her eyes, he placed his hands on her hips and and began slowly caressing her now wet form. She reached up and placed her arms around his neck.

â€œI missed seeing you today,â€ he said, â€œI can usually count on seeing you once or twice during the day.â€

She reached up and brushed her lips against his his, very gently.

â€œWe were very busy on the bridge,â€ she replied softly, â€œBut I was surprised to not see you. You usually make an appearance there at least once a day.â€

She looked down and noticed he had become aroused. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed again him so she could feel his hardness against her stomach. He kissed her deeply, twirling his tongue with hers. His hands moved up to her breasts, his thumbs tweaking her nipples.

He broke the kiss for a moment, giving her another devilish look. Since she was in a mood amenable to illogical activities, he had a few others in mind. She flushed a bit green, but she began slowly depositing kisses down his neck and to his chest. She brushed his nipples with her hand but continued lower to his stomach and then even lower. Her fingers grasped his shaft and she kissed the top, very lightly before taking it into her mouth.

Trip groaned loudly as he leaned back against the shower wall. Tâ€™Pol continued to suck on him with Vulcan precision and concentration, paying no mind to the fact that she was being doused with water. He wondered briefly how she was breathing as his fingers curled into her wet hair.

Finally, she sensed he couldnâ€™t take much more. So, she raised her head and dotted kisses along his chest as his arms wrapped around her. She reached up and turned off the water. In response, he led her into the bedroom. Not bothering to dry off, they both laid down on the bed. He looked in her eyes and saw anticipation there.

He continued to gaze at her as his hand slid up her thigh and between her legs. She was already deeply aroused and wet, so he gently slipped a finger inside her. She closed her eyes in response. He slipped another finger inside her and she moaned. He smiled and slid down her body, careful not to removed his fingers as he did so. He gently spread her legs wider and began to move his fingers. He leaned down and pressed his tongue on to her exposed nub, applying pressure in the same rhythm his fingers were using. Her fingers curled into the bedspread and then she grabbed a pillow to muffle the sound of her cries. He felt her quivering and knew it wouldnâ€™t be long. He felt her flesh contract and her body rock with pleasure as she cried out into the pillow. He gently removed his fingers and crawled up next to her.

After a few moments, her eyes opened, and she gave him a look of pure, unadulterated lust. She pushed him down against the pillows and kissed him. He met the kiss back, aggressively pushing his tongue inside her mouth and guiding her body to a place where he could slip his hardness inside her, groaning as he did so.

She waited a few moments before beginning to move, gazing down into his eyes. She took his hand, the one that had given her so much pleasure earlier and kissed it. He caressed her cheek.

â€œI love you,â€ he whispered.

She started to move, quicker and quicker. He followed her movements with his hips until finally he released himself inside her. As he did so, she felt what he felt, and she shivered into her own climax.

After a few moments, he carefully lifted her off him and placed her next to him. She had recovered, too, and her face was serene. But there was a glint in her eyes, and he felt something akin to joy inside her. It was a Vulcan kind of joy, but it filled him with a peculiar but satisfying feeling of accomplishment.

He sat up a little and pulled her into his arms. Vulcans didnâ€™t cuddle, and he knew she was still getting used to this kind of affection. It wasnâ€™t that she didnâ€™t like it, he knew she did, but it still felt foreign to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they both felt the bond energy ignite between them.

â€œYou know,â€ said Trip, â€œIt feels good to be back on a mission again. I know things are likely gonna get rough, but when weâ€™re just floating around doing diplomatic errands for Earth - it just doesnâ€™t give me the same sense of purpose.â€

He felt her puzzlement through the bond. Pillow talk was another adjustment for her. Inwardly, Trip was amused. Heâ€™d had to make plenty of adjustments, too. These included avoiding expressing any physical affection for her in public and having a wife that could sense what he was feeling. Really sense what he was feeling. But they were working out their differences.

Sometimes, he would let her be very Vulcan, and they would use their hands and fingers to show affection. Other times, she would submit to his very human desire to hold and touch her more fully, just like she was doing now. He did thank his lucky stars that she hadnâ€™t just adjusted to human mating practices but had come to completely enjoy them. And thanks to the bond, there was no faking that.

â€œI have always found my service aboard Enterprise to be most gratifying when the mission is - relevant,â€ she replied.

Trip sighed.

â€œMe too, I guess. Though sometimes I long for the days of the first year we were out here. You know, when there was a new adventure around every corner.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow, amused.

â€œYou mean when there was a new disaster around every corner,â€ she teased flatly.

Trip playfully nipped at her shoulder.

â€œBack when you couldnâ€™t stand me. When a day wasnâ€™t complete when I didnâ€™t get on your nerves. . .â€

She raised her eyebrow again. He started to sense something from her. It was like an admission of guilt but better. He grinned and then laughed.

â€œWell, now, I always kinda thought you enjoyed our little arguments. I didnâ€™t realize how much,â€ he said.

â€œI had never experienced simultaneous annoyance and pleasure. It was fascinating.â€

â€œAnd attraction. You were attracted to me - even then.â€

â€œI had never been attracted. . .â€ she said carefully, â€œAnd didnâ€™t recognize the feeling until later. But you are in no position to judge me, Commander.â€

â€œIâ€™m certainly not,â€ he said, â€œI thought about what it would be like to kiss you the first time we were in decon together. I was so pissed off and that thought made me even more pissed off. I couldnâ€™t believe that such an uptight, snippy Vulcan could be so beautiful.â€

â€œWell,â€ she replied, â€œIâ€™m glad you were able to control yourself. It would have been awkward. I wasnâ€™t yet ready to receive your affection.â€

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œI barely admitted it to myself. Wouldnâ€™t even admit it to Malcolm when we were trapped in the Shuttlepod. He was going on about how pretty he thought you were. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her head, and Trip laughed out loud. He so rarely got a chance to surprise her.

â€œDonâ€™t tell him I told you that. He only admitted it because he thought he was dying. . .really, I know you wonâ€™t, but you know Malcolm, heâ€™s so reserved.â€

Tâ€™Pol realized there was more to this story. She looked at Trip, but he suppressed what he was thinking so she couldnâ€™t get at it. This was good practice, he thought, in case I have to hide something really embarrassing from her.

â€œHe specifically said you have a nice ass,â€ said Trip, â€œAnd I canâ€™t say he was wrong about that. Oh, and he used the more British term. .bum.â€

Trip reached down and squeezed Tâ€™Polâ€™s bum for emphasis.

â€œDonâ€™t tell him,â€ pleaded Trip, â€œHeâ€™ll be mortified.â€

â€œI canâ€™t imagine it ever coming up in conversation,â€ she replied cooly.

Trip leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

â€œBack then, I never would have dreamed this. . .this thing between us would have gone anywhere. Iâ€™m one lucky guy,â€ he said.

Suddenly, he sensed a change in her mood. His words had triggered memories of all the pain she had caused him - and of Elizabeth.

â€œI am a lucky guy,â€ he whispered, â€œand you know I mean that. And I know youâ€™re sorry - and Iâ€™m sorry, too. But itâ€™s water under the bridge. Come on - letâ€™s get ready to sleep. You kinda exhausted me.â€

She nodded, feeling peaceful again. She felt as lucky as he did, if not more so.

****

The next evening, Trip and Tâ€™Pol dined with Captain Archer in his private mess. He served wine, which Tâ€™Pol decided to drink. Archer looked at the two of them, marveling at how professional they seemed. If he hadnâ€™t known better, he would think they were still just colleagues. Maybe that was why it took him so long to get a clue about their relationship when it had first started.

Still, he was grateful that they seemed to be able to work together without letting their personal relationship interfere with the day to day operations of the ship. Starfleet had originally balked at the idea of letting a married couple serve together, but Archer had argued that if grown adults were going to be serving in deep space for years on end, marriages were going to happen. In fact, Archer was surprised more of his crew hadnâ€™t paired off. He knew of a few couples, but Trip and Tâ€™Pol were the first to marry. That was probably because Vulcanâ€™s mate for life, thought Archer, looking at Trip with a twinge of jealousy. Archer had long since let go of his crush on Tâ€™Pol, and he didnâ€™t envy Trip all the pain and angst the pair had been through, but they did seem happy. He thought of Erika, who was light years away on the Columbia and hoped that their paths would cross again soon.

â€œHowâ€™s the wine?â€ he asked Tâ€™Pol, â€œItâ€™s from the Sonoma Valley.â€

â€œIâ€™m not enough of an experienced drinker to judge properly,â€ she replied, â€œBut I find it agreeable.â€

Trip sipped on his own glass and winked at her. It was the first sign of affection between them that Archer had observed. The wine might be getting to them, he thought.

â€œI think its an excellent vintage, Captain,â€ said Trip.

â€œGlad you think so,â€ said Archer, â€œNow, I hadnâ€™t planned on talking business tonight. but I got a report that concerns the mission. You two sober enough to talk business?â€

Both his officers nodded.

â€œIâ€™m just barely sober enough,â€ said Archer as he poured himself another generous glass. Then, he poured Trip and Tâ€™Pol each a glass.

Trip took a sip of his, and Tâ€™Pol soon followed but with a smaller sip.

â€œThereâ€™s a space station not far from our destination. Vulcan intelligence has an agent planted there. The latest briefing is that there is some kind of terra forming operation happening at this new Romulan outpost. The Romulans may be using surrogates at this station to help equip themselves. Weâ€™re going to stop there first, see if we can get any information. It sure would be helpful if we knew what they were looking for before we arrived.â€

Tâ€™Pol stared down into her glass of wine, not meeting the captainâ€™s eyes.

â€œAs you know, Romulan terra-forming technology appears very advanced. We saw some evidence of highly sophisticated atmospheric processing,â€ she said.

â€œTechnology that had been in use for years,â€ added Trip, â€œThat place we were at - it wasnâ€™t new. There was evidence of wear and tear, decades of it.â€

â€œWell,â€ said Archer, â€œIâ€™m going to need both of you to be on the away team. You two havenâ€™t let your relationship interfere with your work on the ship, but you donâ€™t often work in the same space. An away mission is different. Tâ€™Pol will be in charge. Can both of you handle it?â€

Trip and Tâ€™Pol looked at one another.

â€œYes, Captain.â€

â€œI can if she can,â€ said Trip.

â€œGood,â€ said Archer, â€œStarfleet wants me to keep an eye on how you two work together, on top of everything else I have to deal with. Iâ€™d rather keep those reports short and uninteresting. . . .I donâ€™t want to be responsible for a new rule preventing newlyweds from serving together.â€

â€œNeither do we,â€ said Trip.

****

Ston sat across the table from a real Vulcan, one he had only met days before. The Vulcan was stoic, as expected, and his dress quite fine for such a rough section of no manâ€™s land. But Ston looked at the burn marks up and down the manâ€™s arm and knew that the infamous Vulcan control had failed the man. Ston sniggered to himself. He knew all of that logic and control had to be a myth. If they were Romulans, as was assumed, that had to be all a lie. This man proved that.

â€œDid you send the report? Just like I asked,â€ asked Ston eagerly.

The intelligence officer gave Ston a deadly look. Filled with emotion, thought Ston. Typical of a junky.

â€œGood,â€ said Ston, â€œThen Iâ€™ll have the rest of your supply transported to your quarters. And just because Iâ€™m in a generous mood, Iâ€™ll throw in a case of Romulan Ale.â€

The Vulcan nodded.

â€œThank you . . .Ston.â€

â€œYouâ€™re welcome. But you have to tell me if you hear which Earth vessel is being sent here to investigate. If you donâ€™t, well, kiss the third batch goodbye. And my friend Maleek provides the best, I promise you.â€

The Vulcan nodded.

â€œYouâ€™ll have the information you want,â€ he said smoothly.

â€œGood,â€ said Ston, â€œAnd if it turns out its the ship with the Vulcan first officer. Iâ€™ll double your payment.â€

The Vulcan nodded. Then, he got up from his seat and left the bar without looking back at Ston. Ston resisted the impulse to grin, since he was trying to pass for a Vulcan. Though the Vulcans around here were. . .well, it didnâ€™t matter.

He hailed a waitress. She was Andorian and wearing a hopelessly short skirt.

â€œBring me something . . interesting,â€ said Ston.

Her antennae twitched.

â€œTo drink,â€ huffed Ston.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount Owns Everything.  


* * *

Humanoid aliens from all over the quadrant seemed to have jammed their way into the wide, but nevertheless crowded corridors of the enormous space station that orbited the Hirku system. Having only arrived via the airlock and hour before, Trip took an inventory in his head of the species he recognized. Among the many he didnâ€™t recognize, heâ€™d seen Tellarites, Andorians, Vulcans, Suliban, Lorellians, Klingons, Orions and even a human or two. He even caught a glimpse of one of the short, round-eared jackasses that had tried to rob Enterprise early in their mission.

Tripâ€™s trained engineerâ€™s eye also noticed bits of wear and tear in bulkheads and conduits which lined the ceiling. In his head, he ticked off safety violation after safety violation. Nothing seemed deadly, but no matter how interesting this place was, he figured it would be a good thing to spend as little time there as possible.

Trip glanced over at Tâ€™Pol to see if she had noticed, but if she did, it obviously didnâ€™t concern her. She was in conversation with Hoshi, who had been studying the Romulan language as best she could with the little information they had. Hopefully, Hoshi would be able to recognize even fragments the language if they detected in any transmissions.

â€œDid you see that little pirate fellow?â€ said Malcolm.

â€œYeah,â€ replied Trip, â€œBut I hardly think its fair to hold the entire race accountable for the actions of a few pirates. And that wasnâ€™t one of the guys who tried to rob us.â€

There was just a touch of sarcasm in Tripâ€™s voice, which Malcolm detected.

â€œWell,â€ replied Malcolm, â€œFrom what the Captain put in his report, Iâ€™d think itâ€™s safe to assume we shouldnâ€™t assume they wouldnâ€™t be pirates, but alas I suppose we should just focus on this mission.â€

Trip grinned.

â€œProbably,â€ said Trip, who glanced over at his wife and saw she was waiting for them. He reminded himself that she wasnâ€™t his wife on this mission; she was his CO. The away team consisted of the four of them. Malcolm and Trip were to search for technical evidence that anyone on the station was helping the Romulans, while Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi were going to do some old-fashioned reconnaissance. Tâ€™Pol was to meet with the Vulcan intelligence officer in a tea room on one of the higher decks; while Hoshi was going to loiter around the large waiting area outside the security and customs station.

â€œWeâ€™ll all report back here by 1300 hours,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œDonâ€™t hesitate to call in before that, if it is deemed necessary.â€

Malcolm nodded formally.

â€œBe careful,â€ said Trip, â€œBoth of you.â€

Hoshi smiled, and Tâ€™Pol nodded before heading toward a turbolift.

Trip shook his head. Tâ€™Pol had been suppressing the bond since the moment the mission started. She didnâ€™t even say goodbye through the bond, as she often did aboard the ship. She sure was taking this working relationship only business seriously.

****

Tâ€™Pol found her way to the â€œVulcan Sectionâ€ of the vast space station, which consisted of a pie shaped wedge in the large, round main hallways of the station that was three decks deep. All the Vulcans who lived aboard the station had their businesses and living quarters here, and there were several businesses catering to the stationâ€™s hundred or so Vulcan residents and the many Vulcan visitors. Although non-Vulcans were welcome in the section, they were uncommon.

â€œTonk'peh,â€ said the young female Vulcan who was the hostess of the tea room.

Tâ€™Pol nodded, happy to hear her native language spoken. In Vulcan, she requested a table for one, and the hostess led her to a small table near the back window. Tâ€™Pol could see Enterprise docked at one of the ports, as well as several other starships. Some were of Vulcan design.

She tapped her order into the screen that was embedded in the table and wondered just how authentic the meal would be. From the smell of it, the establishment had imported most of its ingredients directly from Vulcan. In addition to the menu, the screen embedded in the table also accessed the subspace news wires from Vulcan, offered thousands of logic puzzles, works of literature and even played Vulcan music.

Her meal arrived, and Tâ€™Pol had noticed that the Vulcan intelligence officer that was stationed here was late. Vulcans were rarely late, she thought as she began to consume her food.

These tastes of home were comforting to her. Although she was content to be living the life of a planetary ex-patriot, she would also always be Vulcan and the smells and tastes of home would remain part of her identity.

After a short while, a middle aged Vulcan man appeared at her table. He wore traditional Vulcan robes, albeit in the informal style, but he barely looked Vulcan to her. Something in the lines of his countenance and the hue of his skin suggested stress that most Vulcans do not allow themselves to endure. Tâ€™Pol empathized, knowing she too had been through more than most Vulcans could understand. The life of an intelligence officer this far on the frontier of known space was no doubt a difficult one.

â€œYou are Commander Tâ€™Pol,â€ he said in Vulcan.

â€œYes. You must be Javon,â€ she replied.

He nodded in the affirmative and sat down.

â€œI have been requested to give you any information I have on the Romulans and their activities in the area,â€ he said.

â€œVulcan intelligence is in full cooperation with with Earth intelligence on this matter,â€ she said.

Javon nodded.

â€œAre you enjoying your meal?â€ he asked.

Tâ€™Pol hesitated for a moment. Such an idle question was unusual from a Vulcan, but then, like her, he might have adopted off-worlder customs.

â€œIt is agreeable to consume such authentic fare,â€ she replied.

â€œI assume that human chefs only manage a fair imitation of Vulcan cuisine,â€ he responded.

â€œYes,â€she replied.

After a momentâ€™s silence, she spoke.

â€œHow much intelligence do have for me? We can transfer any files via encryption, as you have no doubt been informed by your superiors.â€

Javon produced a small crystalline disk from his pocket and slid it, quite openly, across the table. Tâ€™Pol recognized it as a means of storing large quantities of data.

â€œTo anyone not holding the encryption key, the data will appear to be the account books for the import business I run. Iâ€™m having you take it to my accountant rather than sending such vast files over subspace.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded and casually slipped the disk into her belt. She then waited for Javon to speak, as it was customary for him to summarize the most important points.

â€œHow is your husband?â€ asked Javon in English.

Tâ€™Pol was surprised by both the language switch and the question.

â€œDonâ€™t worry,â€ said Javon with a wave of his hand, â€œOur speaking a foreign tongue will not draw attention to us. I speak over 20 languages and have been trying to learn English. Me not trying to speak it with you would be more suspicious to the staff here.â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped on her tea and sensed amusement from him. Clearly, this man had been in deep space for long enough that his emotions were very close to the surface. She wasnâ€™t in a position to judge, but it wasnâ€™t a mirror she enjoyed looking into.

â€œMy husband is well,â€ she replied.

â€œYou created quite the scandal on Vulcan,â€ said Javon, â€œWe even got wind of it here. I must say it was agreeable to me that you extracted yourself from Kossâ€™s family. I know little of the man, but if heâ€™s like his father you are far better off.â€

Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t react, but she was curious. She suppressed the desire to know more. This man was using intelligence tricks on her, treating her like an asset rather than a colleague. It wasnâ€™t right.

â€œThat family pretends to be all about logic and honor, but they run some of the myriad businesses through this station. Kossâ€™s father has a rather, shall I say, ruthless application of logic.â€

Tâ€™Pol believed this to be true, and the news was agreeable to her. But Javon was flattering her by supporting her unorthodox choices and providing justification for them. What he didnâ€™t know is that Tâ€™Pol would not have been able to bond with a member of Surakâ€™s family, let alone Koss. His fatherâ€™s nature had nothing to do with her choice. Tâ€™Pol reminded herself of that fact as a way to keep Javonâ€™s flattery at bay.

â€œMy wife has remained on Vulcan all these years,â€ said Javon, â€œand Iâ€™ve never found the need to return. I have found an Orion woman that is a most stimulating companion. Did you know they emit mind-controlling pheromones? That they control their mates that way?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œDoes she control you that way? The last time I encountered a group of them, they enslaved nearly ever man on my ship,â€ she inquired casually.

â€œShe sometimes thinks she does,â€ responded Javon, â€œbut as you know, a disciplined mind can accomplish much.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow. She thought her relationship with Trip was unusual, but she suddenly wished to be an insect on the wall at Javonâ€™s residence.

â€œDo you wish to provide me with any more information?â€ she asked.

Javon leaned back.

â€œYou likely know most of what is on that disk. It contains all of my reports to Vulcan intelligence including the last one. Two traders who operate out of this station have likely been supplying the Romulans with materials for their operation. The Klingon, he provides basic materials that they could obtain from anyone. Heavy metals, alloys and other raw material used in the construction of the mines, defense systems and their buildings. He doesnâ€™t concern me. But the Tellarite, his services are more interesting. He only seems to provide one thing - an element native to their world thatâ€™s primary use is to stabilize volatile substances in mining operations.

Tâ€™Pol nodded. She understood the implication. The Romulans were mining something dangerous on the nearby planet, and it was probably something very valuable to them, given the level of security around the system.

â€œTell me, Tâ€™Pol,â€ said Javon, â€œHave you ever met a Romulan?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked at him. He wasnâ€™t supposed to know about her father, but intelligence officers always knew more than they were supposed to know.

â€œEven if I had, you know I wouldnâ€™t be at liberty to divulge that,â€ she responded smoothly.

Javon nodded, and Tâ€™Pol hoped she hadnâ€™t given him any improper cues. She sensed this man could have read things in Tâ€™Pauâ€™s face if he really set his mind to it. She did her best to read his face, and she thought it was very likely he knew at least something of her recent troubles.

â€œAre you to be staying on the station?â€ he asked, â€œI could help you obtain a room here in the Vulcan section. Itâ€™s very quiet. Ideal for meditation.â€

â€œOur captain has said he prefers us to sleep aboard our ship,â€ she replied.

For a split second, Javonâ€™s eyes moved away from Tâ€™Pol and focused intently on something or someone behind her. It was a rare slip up for a Vulcan agent, since Tâ€™Pol clearly recognized that he didnâ€™t want her to know what had distracted him. She made no move to turn her head and in the direction he looked, but moments later she gestured toward the ship and asked Javon what he knew of its specifications. As he looked at the window, she quickly stole a glance to where he had looked. All she saw was a young male Vulcan seated in the corner sipping tea. Her glance was too quick to register that the young man had been staring at her the entire time sheâ€™s been talking to Javon.

****

After Tâ€™Pol had left, Ston approached Javon and sat down. Javon looked at the young man intently. He still didnâ€™t know for sure why this Romulan boy was so interested in Commander Tâ€™Pol, but he wanted to find out. Not only was it his job to know these things, but he was actually curious about this situation. Javon had always been curious to a fault, and eventually he had chosen intelligence gathering as a career in order to make use of what was considered a personality flaw on Vulcan. Curiosity was of great benefit in his line of work.

Javon had been impressed with Tâ€™Pol, and he almost regretted luring her to the station. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that his reports would have brought Tâ€™Polâ€™s ship to the station even before Javon had rewritten them to emphasize the stationâ€™s part in the mining operation. It was usually Javonâ€™s habit to write his reports in such a way as to keep other intelligence officers away from his territory, but Stonâ€™s incentives made it logical to do otherwise in this case. The boy, however, thought he had arranged some kind of spectacular coup, and Javon was content to let him believe that, given how good his payments were.

â€œYouâ€™ll get your bonus,â€ said Ston happily.

â€œYoung man,â€ said Javon, â€œcontrol yourself. Anyone paying attention to you right now would realize immediately that you are not Vulcan. If you wish to continue your masquerade, I suggest you take up meditation.â€

Ston ignored this comment.

â€œWhat was she like?â€

â€œUnremarkable,â€ lied Javon. Now that heâ€™d met Tâ€™Pol, he was more disquieted by the young manâ€™s interest in her.

â€œI thought she looked very remarkable,â€ pouted Ston.

Javon stood up.

â€œThat is none of my concern,â€ he said, glad the final payment would be delivered soon.

****

The away team met, as planned at 13:00 hours. They were all grateful that nothing out of the ordinary had as yet happened. Away missions going without a hitch were still somewhat abnormal.

â€œI counted over 82 languages being spoken,â€ said Hoshi, â€œand I didnâ€™t even recognize 20 of then.â€

â€œThis place is amazing,â€ said Trip, â€œItâ€™s glued together from spare parts that come from all over. Vulcan conduits. Andorian power couplings. Tellarite protein sequencers. Thereâ€™s even Starfleet technology evident in their communications systems.â€

â€œIt was probably stolen from Enterprise,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œWhatâ€™s it like in the Vulcan section?â€ asked Hoshi, innocently.

Trip officially knew about Tâ€™Polâ€™s meeting with Javon. Malcolm knew unofficially, but Hoshi didnâ€™t know at all. She knew they were gathering information about the Romulans, but she didnâ€™t need to know that there was a Vulcan agent on the station.

â€œIt is exactly as one would expect a Vulcan section of the station to be. We should get back to the main security area,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIt may take as long as an hour to get through the checkpoints.â€

She flipped open her communicator.

â€œTâ€™Pol to Captain Archer. Weâ€™re returning to the ship, once weâ€™ve cleared security.â€

â€œDonâ€™t bother,â€ snapped Archerâ€™s voice, â€œWeâ€™re under quarantine. The harbor master says that their systems detected a pathogen in one of our cargo bays. They arenâ€™t letting anyone on or off the ship until theyâ€™ve isolated it.â€

It was nonsense, as Enterprise had very sophisticated systems to prevent such occurrences.

â€œDid the harbor master solicit a bribe in exchange for overlooking the pathogen?â€

â€œHowâ€™d you know?â€ asked the captain, sheepishly.

â€œItâ€™s a common ploy. It might be advisable to pay it.â€

â€œNot on your life,â€ responded Archer, â€œIâ€™d rather let you extend your away mission than submit to blackmail. Continue as you were. Get whatever information you can and report back to me every eight hours. Archer out.â€

Trip smirked a little. He could feel Tâ€™Polâ€™s irritation with the captainâ€™s stubborn streak. No doubt she would have just paid the bribe and written it off as the cost of doing business.

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œit looks like weâ€™ll need to find a place to stay tonight.â€

Tâ€™Pol thought briefly of the Vulcan section but rejected it. She didnâ€™t want Javon to have an opportunity to further observe her.

â€œIâ€™ll go to the information desk and see if I can book us rooms,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œAnywhere but the Vulcan section,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

****

Later that afternoon, Trip and Tâ€™Pol found their way into a bright, large suite with an expansive window overlooking the planet below. Hoshi had found herself and Malcolm small interior rooms with a view of the hydroponic gardens, but double occupancy rooms were bigger and had the space view. Trip looked around and was impressed. It wasnâ€™t as nice as the Romulan warbird, but it was better than he expected. The bed was large and piled high with pillows. The decor was sparse, but a vase of fresh flowers brightened up the room. There was a suite of furniture in front of the window and a large abstract painting on the wall.

Hoshi had said this â€œhotel sectionâ€ offered the best accommodations on the station - certainly better than the Vulcan section, which was known to be spartan.

Trip was thankful Tâ€™Pol hadnâ€™t shown any interest in Vulcan austerity. Their room was bigger than their quarters on the ship and looked plenty comfy.

â€œThis away mission is starting to feel like a vacation,â€ said Trip as he began to explore the room.

â€œDonâ€™t humans have a saying about not mixing business with pleasure,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of the window.

Hoshi had explained to the hotelâ€™s management that they had all become trapped on the station without any luggage. The management had provided â€œsurvival kitsâ€ with toiletries and other items humanoids without luggage might require. The desk clerk also instructed them to place their dirty clothes in the the laundry receptacle and promised they would be cleaned and delivered by early morning.

â€œThereâ€™s a huge bathtub in here,â€ said Trip from the bathroom, â€œHuh. You can have a water bath or a liquid nitrogen bath or a hydrochloric acid bath. Remind me to pay close attention to the buttons.â€

â€œYou are the last person I would expect to make a mistake regarding the settings of such a simple device,â€ said Tâ€™Pol without irony.

Trip smiled and joined her by the window. He sat down in the chair across from her.

â€œHow did your meeting with the Vulcan go?â€ he asked with a serious tone. â€œYou can tell me, Iâ€™ve got full clearance on this mission.â€

â€œIt was. . .interesting. He has provided no more information that what could be gleaned from his report. The Romulans are mining some unknown substance, and they are using several traders at this station as part of their supply chain. Javon seemed more interesting in getting information from me than giving it to me.â€

She spent of few moments briefing her on the exact nature of their conversation, and he in turn, reported on what he and Malcolm had found out around the station. His information aligned with Javonâ€™s intelligence.

â€œWhatâ€™s he like?â€

â€œHeâ€™s a Vulcan that has been living among out-worlders for decades,â€ she said cooly, â€œand it shows in his manner.â€

Trip sensed immediately why this made Tâ€™Pol nervous.

â€œLiving in a place as rough as this station for a long time,â€ he said smoothly, â€œwould have an effect on just about anyone - even a Vulcan.â€

Tâ€™Pol appreciated his sentiments, so much so she allowed a little of the bond energy, which she had been blocking since they arrived on the station, to flow between them. Trip reached over, and the two joined fingers. The little stream of energy became a fast-running river. Trip fully understood how nervous Javon had made Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIâ€™ve not met the guy,â€ said Trip, â€œbut I already know youâ€™re nothing like him.â€

Tâ€™Pol was skeptical and said nothing. Gradually, he felt her suppressing her nervousness.

â€œGlad youâ€™re feeling better,â€ said he said.

â€œWould you care to join me for meditation?â€

â€œPerhaps later,â€ said Trip, â€œWould you care to join me for a bath?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised the familiar eyebrow. She had become accustomed to showering with her husband, but she hadnâ€™t ever taken a bath with him.

â€œCâ€™mon,â€ he said as he stood up, â€œItâ€™ll be nearly as relaxing as meditation.â€

****

Malcolm and Hoshi each had their own room, but they were adjoined. About an hour after arriving, Malcolm heard Hoshi knock on his door.

â€œDo you have a sauna in your room?â€ she asked.

â€œNo,â€ he said, â€œI have whirlpool tub.â€

â€œIâ€™ve only got a shower,â€ she said, â€œbut Iâ€™ve got a sauna. Care to join me?â€

Malcolm grinned, and she took that as an affirmative.

â€œThereâ€™s probably a bathrobe hanging in the closet,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™ll see you in a bit.â€

Malcolm took off his clothes and donned the fluffy robe that Hoshi had correctly predicted would be in his closet. He wondered for a second just how friendly Hoshiâ€™s invitation was but thought it best to err on the side of friend-friendly. He strode casually into her bathroom and saw the door to the sauna.

â€œThereâ€™s an extra towel out there,â€ she said.

Malcolm hung up his robe and wrapped the towel around his waist. Inside the sauna, he found Hoshi lying on her back, covered completely by a towel.

â€œI think they make these towels for Klingons,â€ she sighed.

Malcolm silently agreed. He had seen her less covered in decon many times.

â€œBe careful of the controls,â€ she continued, â€œYou can turn up the heat to 500 degrees.â€

Malcolm spooned some water on the rocks and created a burst of steam. Then, he jumped on the opposite bench from Hoshi and closed his eyes.

â€œThis is way better than decon,â€ he said.

â€œYeah,â€ she replied, â€œNo Phlox watching us.â€

He peered out one eye at Hoshi, who was covered in beads of sweat with her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face.

â€œThanks for inviting me,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œWeâ€™ll have to try your hot tub tomorrow,â€ sighed Hoshi.

â€œItâ€™s a date,â€ said Malcolm, â€œassuming weâ€™re lucky enough to still be here.â€

â€œIt turned into a working vacation pretty quick,â€ said Hoshi, â€œwhich I do not object to.â€

Malcolm stretched out and cricked his neck.

â€œI wonder how the newlyweds are enjoying it,â€ replied Malcolm, â€œIâ€™m sure they're happy to have some time alone and away from the ship. Tâ€™Pol sure seemed all business this morning, but Iâ€™ll bet they are making the most of their time.â€

â€œI would if I were them,â€ said Hoshi a little wistfully.

â€œWere you surprised when they came back from Vulcan married? After the Terra Prime incident, I never would of thought it possible,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œA little I guess,â€ said Hoshi, â€œbut it is very Vulcan cohere with someone who shares your deep grief like that. So, itâ€™s really not that surprising. And even before that, everyone and I mean everyone on the ship knew they were involved. Iâ€™m happy for them.â€

Malcolm inhaled the air, and Hoshi sat up and punched a button on the side controls.

â€œThis is supposed to add some kind of aroma therapy. It has a few human scents, but thereâ€™s an Andorian one here. Feeling brave? Itâ€™s not like we canâ€™t just turn it off.â€

â€œGo right ahead. . .â€ said Malcolm.

Soon, a sweet but somewhat acidic smell filled the room.

â€œThat will open your sinuses,â€ sad Hoshi.

â€œSure will. Iâ€™m glad Trip and Tâ€™Pol stayed on the ship. It will be interesting to see how it all works out, but I am glad Starfleet allowed them to stay on while married. People should have a chance to lead normal lives in deep space.â€

The smell was becoming stronger and stronger. Malcolm noticed color spots of blue, green and purples dancing on the interior of his eyelids. He opened his eyes. The room seemed unstable, as if the space of the sauna was endanger of collapsing into a micro-singularity. He looked over to Hoshi, and she appeared strange. She was lying in the same position as she had been, but to Malcolm she seemed cocooned in white, cotton candy-like light.

â€œMalcolm,â€ she said, â€œI think we better switch to the eucalyptus scent. Are you seeing things?â€

â€œYes,â€ he said, â€œand I think Iâ€™m in love with the universe.â€

â€œThatâ€™s nice,â€ she said, â€œHopefully this will wear off soon. Youâ€™re cocoon looks cozy, though.â€

With that, Hoshi closed her eyes again.

***

Ston paced back and forth in his quarters at the Vulcan section. He had bribed the registration clerk into making certain that Tâ€™Pol would be given rooms across the hall from him, but his sister had apparently decided to stay elsewhere on the station. No doubt she wanted to be closer to her human companions. Perhaps her husband was with her, as well.

Ston wrinkled his nose a the thought of his sisterâ€™s husband. He knew little about him and tried to think of them man even less. All Ston knew was that the man was human, from Earth and worked as the engineer on his sisterâ€™s starship. It seemed a very wrong choice to marry outside Vulcan society, but the thought that she had done that was intriguing to Ston. He knew little about humans, but they were known to be emotional and un-Vulcan. It seemed unlikely she could have made such a match by choice. It was probably forced on her for some reason.

Ston flipped through several photos of his sister on his data screen. He had her official Starfleet photo, a photo of her as she arrived at his fatherâ€™s cottage, a photo of her graduation from the science academy on her planet, a photo of her as a stern looking little girl standing next to father. . .the pictures went on and on. Looking at them, Ston felt robbed. He should have known that woman in the pictures. She should have been there for him when he was a boy. Father could have seen to that, but instead he abandoned his daughter. Ston had to make it up to her somehow, but he needed to find out where she was. The bribe heâ€™d paid to the harbor master had ensured she would remain on the station for at least a few days, but he had thought for certain she would stay among her own kind.

As if to punish himself for his own error in thinking, Ston hit his hand against the table hard.

Then, he picked up his communicator and buzzed Maleek.

â€œMy sister is somewhere on the station. I need to know where she is staying.â€

Maleek sighed.

â€œWeâ€™ll find out for you, if we can.â€

Ston was about to yell that he had better find out, but he stopped. He had no real power over Maleek, and his friend was starting to sour on their endeavor.

â€œIâ€™ll be waiting,â€ said Ston.

****

The oversized titanium tub in Trip and Tâ€™Polâ€™s quarters not only fit both of them nicely, but it heated the water continuously so it didnâ€™t get cold. Trip, who suspected the thing might be built for Klingons, had drawn it to a pleasantly warm temperature, and they sat facing each other, each with their back against an end of the tub.

â€œThis canâ€™t be a completely foreign concept to you,â€ said Trip, â€œI know there was a bathing pool at your Momâ€™s house.â€

â€œYes,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut bathing is done alone on Vulcan as part of the cleansing of emotions. And we certainly donâ€™t use bubbles.â€

Trip had one of Tâ€™Polâ€™s dainty feet in his hand and was applying pressure to one of her neural nodes.

â€œBut the principle is the same. Warm water. Muscles loosening. Relaxation.â€

â€œWe use warm water to tend to injuries, but normally are baths are kept at the exact Vulcan body temperature in order to create a sense of balance.â€

She closed her eyes when he hit a particularly sensitive spot in her arch, and she made a soft moan.

â€œI wonder how Lt. Sato and Lt. Commander Reed are doing,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œHow is it that you are thinking about them?â€ asked Trip, amused.

â€œIt is likely they will not find being stranded on the station as pleasurable as you have,â€ she said.

â€œIâ€™ll wager not,â€ said Trip, whose fingers were now working on the place where her little toe joined her foot.

Tâ€™Pol had her hands at either side of the tub, but she reached with her other foot to gently rub up and down Tripâ€™s thigh.

â€œI thought you didnâ€™t want to mix business with pleasure,â€ he teased.

â€œI never said that,â€ she replied, â€œI only said that I believe humans warn against the practice. Personally, I believe it is logical to make use of our time in this unexpected environment.â€

Trip let her foot drop back into the water, and reached for her hands, pulling her across the tub to him. His mouth found hers in a deep, searching kiss. Her arms came up around his neck and her legs straddled his sides under the water. His hands found her breasts, and he teased and tweaked them without breaking from the kiss. After awhile, he moved his lips to her ear and nibbled the point while whispering to her.

â€œAshayam,â€ he said.

In answer, she clutched him tighter and gasped with pleasure. He pressed the mechanism to drain the water from the tub. As it quickly disappeared, he flipped her over on her back and admired her form, which was still covered in bubbles. Instinctively, she brushed a cluster of bubbles out of his hair, and then pulled him down for another long kiss. Soon, he found his way inside her, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him.

â€œBeloved,â€ she whispered in his ear.

****

Malcolm and Hoshi, thinking it best to not leave their rooms in their condition, had ordered room service from the hotel. The kitchen had actually contacted Enterprise and was able to concoct a traditional Japanese Udon for Hoshi and some British-style Indian food for Malcolm - with pineapple ice cream for dessert.

The two of them, in their bathrobes, sat on Malcolmâ€™s bed while examining the food. Malcolm was slurping Udon noodles while Hoshi sampled some Tandori chicken.

â€œThis doesnâ€™t taste anything like what I ate in India. You Brits have really outdone yourself making Indian food bland. . .â€

â€œI donâ€™t think itâ€™s that bland in London. It probably just a bad copy. . .do you still love everything? Because I love everything.â€

Hoshi chewed very, very carefully on her chicken.

â€œI love everything but this chicken. . .you know, as much as I donâ€™t want this to wear off. I do because I donâ€™t want anyone to know how stupid we were to test that Andorian aromatherapy.â€

â€œIt was a breach of protocol,â€ said Malcolm, â€œNever inhale an unknown alien substance.â€

Hoshi looked out the window to all the plants and flowers in the garden.

â€œSo pretty,â€ she sighed, â€œI should have been a botanist.â€

â€œYouâ€™re the second best linguist on Earth.â€

â€œWell, maybe I could have been the best botanist on Earth,â€ sighed Hoshi wistfully.

Malcolm looked over at Hoshi. Her body was still surrounded by white wisps of light that seems to resemble strings of DNA unfurled. He wondered if that was Hoshiâ€™s soul. She had a very pretty soul.

â€œHey, Malcolm,â€ she said, â€œYou look all gooey.â€

She reached up and tried to touch his face but missed.

â€œI think this stuff affects your depth perception,â€ she said.

â€œWhat the chicken?â€

â€œNo. . .not that. Boy, this better wear off tomorrow,â€ she said a little sadly, â€œbut the idea makes me sad.â€

Malcolm leaned over and placed his head on Hoshiâ€™s shoulder.

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ he said, â€œIf itâ€™s any consolation, I love you.â€

â€œYou love everything, Malcolm,â€ said Hoshi, â€œand I think I do as well. Including you.â€

â€œWe have that in common,â€ he replied with a slightly soft giggle.

Hoshi wanted to ask if he meant that they both loved Malcolm or that they loved each other, but she got distracted by some dancing blobs of color on the ceiling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, perhaps even my soul.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything, perhaps even my soul.

Rating: This chapter is tame, R mostly for drug use, alcohol use, prostitution references and general creepiness. No explicit sex in this chapter.  


* * *

First thing the next morning, Captain Archer paced on the bridge. Four of his bridge officers were trapped on the station because he refused to pay bribe. It infuriated him, but he choked down the anger. It wasnâ€™t as though they werenâ€™t making good use of the time. The exterior of the ship was being painted, and Archer had ordered some readjustments of the phase canons that could be performed while they were still under this ridiculous quarantine. In the meantime, he ordered a light duty schedule for the crew who were stuck onboard.

â€œTravis,â€ he said, â€œjoin me in the Captainâ€™s mess for breakfast?â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Travis, who always enjoyed the special food served during his meals with the captain.

Soon, the two were dining on eggs benedict. Archer also ordered up a pitcher of bloody marys to go with the breakfast.

â€œSir,â€ said Travis, â€œArenâ€™t we on duty?â€

â€œNot thanks to the harbor master,â€ he said as he poured Travis a glass.

â€œHave you heard from the away team?â€ asked Travis.

â€œTâ€™Pol checked in this morning. Hoshi found them all digs in the most respectable place on that station. The team is going to spend the day doing more recon around the station. Perhaps this fiasco is a blessing in disguise. The more information we have heading over to the Romulan mining planet, the better.â€

Travis put a generous helping of eggs benedict in his mouth and chewed slowly. When he finished, he spoke.

â€œIâ€™ve been to dozens of stations like this. They tend to be great places to get anything you want - especially information. They are also places where it is easy to get into trouble. In fact, troubleâ€™s probably the only commodity more common than information on a station like this.â€

Travis continued with several long and involved anecdotes from his childhood designed to elucidate just what kind of place the station probably was. One included his father getting mugged by a trio of Tellerites, the other involved the Horizonâ€™s cargo being stolen by a non-humanoid race. Archer downed his bloody mary and tossed a piece of bacon to Porthos.

â€œWell,â€ he replied, â€œIâ€™m glad Tâ€™Polâ€™s in charge. She dislikes trouble more than I do. Hopefully, sheâ€™ll keep the rest of them from getting too adventurous.â€

****

Trip and Tâ€™Pol had breakfast in their room, over looking the planet. Again, with information from Enterprise, the hotel had managed to prepare a reasonable breakfast of both human and Vulcan origins.

â€œHow is the coffee?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œNot terrible,â€ said Trip, â€œbut Iâ€™ve had better. The beans for this certainly werenâ€™t grown on Earth.â€

They had been going over the information Trip and Malcolm had gathered the day before and were trying to determine the best use of their time for the day.

â€œBottom line,â€ said Trip, â€œThe only thing we really need to know is what the Romulans are mining on that planet. Everything else is just . . .â€

â€œInterference,â€ completed Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIf it comes to war,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™ll wager the alliance will want to stop the Romulans from getting whatever it is they are getting from there.â€

â€œThereâ€™s a reasonable chance that whatever their mining will be of military use, but it is possible that they are mining something that has limited practical value.â€

â€œRomulan blood diamonds,â€ said Trip.

Tâ€™Pol was puzzled, as she had never heard the term.

â€œBefore diamonds could be perfectly manufactured on earth,â€ he continued, â€œthey could only be mined from certain regions, usually poor regions. Rich people didnâ€™t just want them for industrial purposes, either. They were used in jewelry - like the Crown Jewels of England or the Hope Diamond. Long story short, miserable wars were fought over rocks that people thought were pretty, but when they became common suddenly they werenâ€™t so pretty anymore and the wars ended. Diamonds still have industrial uses, but they stopped signifying eternal love over a century ago.â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped on her tea and looked down at the planet below them.

â€œIt is inadvisable to speculate at to the nature of the mining operation,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œWe should be able to determine what they are mining in due course.â€

A ping came through on the hotelâ€™s communication system, and Tâ€™Pol brought up a message on the vid screen embedded in the table. Javon was inviting her and Trip the Vulcan section.

Tâ€™Pol thought for a moment, unsure of what the invitation meant. Was Javon just being friendly or did he have more intelligence for her?

â€œJavon wishes for us to join him for the afternoon meal.â€

â€œBoth of us? Should we go?â€

â€œIt seems like a good use of time. He might be able to provide more information. Do you wish to come?â€

Though she didnâ€™t outwardly show it, the invitation had taken Tâ€™Pol aback and piqued her curiosity. Trip sensed it.

â€œIâ€™ve got no other plans,â€ he said.

â€œYou will likely be the only non-Vulcan in that section of the station.â€

â€œWouldnâ€™t be the first time Iâ€™ve been the only non Vulcan somewhere with you. Itâ€™ll be fine. I guess Malcolm and Hoshi will have to entertain themselves.â€

****

â€œHow do you feel, Malcolm?â€ asked Hoshi as the water from the hot tub swirled around her aching body.

â€œIâ€™m not seeing the white cocoons anymore,â€ replied Malcolm, who sat across from her in the tub, â€œbut my muscles still ache like hell.â€

The hot tub was decontaminated by a green algae rather than chlorine, so the water felt clean despite being an opaque green. Malcolm was grateful for the color, as neither of them had swimsuits and both desperately needed to soak their muscles. The water prevented either of them from seeing something that they didnâ€™t need to see just then.

â€œMine, too. It must be whatever the hell that was working out of our systems,â€ she said.

â€œThank god Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t demand to have breakfast with us this morning.â€

Malcolm reached up and grabbed a pastry from a tray that he had brought in from Hoshiâ€™s room. The attendant had delivered their breakfast along with their uniforms early that morning.

â€œAre you sure you donâ€™t want one?â€ asked Malcolm, gesturing to the tray.

Hoshi sipped on some juice and shook her head.

â€œIâ€™m still full from last night,â€ she replied, â€œI canâ€™t believe how much I ate.â€

â€œI hope we wonâ€™t have to report this,â€ said Malcolm, â€œbut if this doesnâ€™t wear off completely, weâ€™re going to have tell Tâ€™Pol what happened.â€

Hoshi glanced at Malcolm. He knew she was thinking he was the biggest goody two shoes ever.

â€œI think weâ€™ll be fine. I donâ€™t even see colors when I close my eyes anymore. Iâ€™m just going to be tired today. Did you get any sleep at all?â€

Malcolm shook his head.

No, but it sure was an interesting night.â€

Hoshi grinned.

â€œThatâ€™s for sure. I kind of donâ€™t regret it. How about you?â€

â€œNot remotely,â€ he said, â€œNow, lieutenant, shut your eyes. Iâ€™m going to get out of the tub and get dressed.â€

â€œOh youâ€™re no fun,â€ said Hoshi, closing her eyes.

Malcolm lifted himself out of the water and quickly found a towel to wrap around himself. He didnâ€™t look back to see if Hoshi was peeking, but he hoped that she was.

****

A few hours later, Trip Tucker found himself on the strangest double date of his life, and he certainly wasnâ€™t the only non-Vulcan in the Vulcan Section. He sat in the cafe across of a Vulcan intelligence officer and his Orion girlfriend. The girlfriend wore her hair in a Vulcan style and dressed in Vulcan robes, which frankly looked absurd. It wasnâ€™t like she was fooling anyone, and Trip couldnâ€™t help but wonder what the other Vulcans on the station thought of this woman, not to mention the man who put her in those clothes.

Whatever the case, Trip already knew what the Vulcan sitting next to him thought, and he was concentrating on suppressing the bond enough so that she wouldnâ€™t realize how hilarious her reaction was to him. Despite being dressed in a human uniform and being accompanied by a human husband, Tâ€™Pol was utterly scandalized that a Vulcan would pair off with an Orion and that the Orion woman would even attempt to affect a Vulcan manner.

â€œTell me, Arian, do you use your unique form of control only on Javon or do you apply it to other men on the ship?â€

â€œOh,â€ she said, â€œI apply to anyone who strikes my fancy - men, women . . .androgynous, itâ€™s all good. But with Javon, he can block me with his mind. Thatâ€™s what drew me to him. I relish a challenge. Vulcans are so very challenging, donâ€™t you think so Commander Tucker? â€

Trip felt her Orion pheromones as they were bouncing off his brain, as if to say â€œno luck here, sister.â€ Tâ€™Pol was confident enough in the bond not to be worried, but he could tell she found the woman appalling. He found the situation so amusing that he wished the cafe served beer so he could better enjoy himself.

â€œChallenging in a good way,â€ said Trip.

â€œSo you know what I mean?â€™ she said, playing with a strand of her inky black hair.

â€œWhy have you asked us here, Javon?â€ said Tâ€™Pol, affecting the most blunt and Vulcan tone heâ€™d heard her use in years.

â€œWhy to be social, of course,â€ replied Javon, â€œI know it isnâ€™t very Vulcan, but I believe humans enjoy socializing almost as much as Orions.â€

Trip looked down at the display of bland Vulcan food before him. Even the tea served at this place was boring, but at least the company was anything but boring. Tâ€™Pol, didnâ€™t believe for a moment that Javon brought them there as a friendly gesture. He didnâ€™t either. At the very least, the man was sizing them both up. Unlike Malcolm and Tâ€™Pol, Trip wasnâ€™t trained in intelligence, but he knew enough about the trade that every move anyone made was a chance to gain an advantage. But that road went both ways, and he was sizing up Javon as a master of a game whose rules he didnâ€™t know. Hell, he didnâ€™t even know what constituted winning, but he did sense that Javon was both overconfident and someone with conflicting loyalties.

Trip took a sip of his tea and resolved to have a long talk with Malcolm about spy craft. At that moment, Tâ€™Pol stood up and excused herself to the facilities. Trip wasnâ€™t certain if she really needed to go, or if she was looking for an excuse to contact the ship or take notes or something. She had become inscrutable.

â€œSo,â€ said Trip, â€œhowâ€™d you two meet?â€

â€œJavon was a client at a business that used to employ me,â€ said Arian.

Trip knew exactly what kind of business she meant, and so he didnâ€™t press for specifics. He looked up at Javonâ€™s serene Vulcan countenance.

_Every seven years my ass_ , he thought.

****

Tâ€™Pol looked in the mirror of the ladies room and sighed deeply. Inadvertently, she had done the worst thing an agent could do, she had piqued the curiosity of another agent. On the other hand, the fact that Javon treated her like an asset rather than a colleague spoke volumes about the manâ€™s loyalty or, more accurately, the mutable nature of it. The man no longer did his job out of loyalty to Vulcan, of that she was sure. He was a man who never did anything unless it benefited him personally.

Tâ€™Pol composed herself. It wasnâ€™t as though she wasnâ€™t in control of the situation. She, too, had learned a great deal about him during their two encounters, and she would have quite a report to write. What she hadnâ€™t decided is if she would recommend Starfleet send it on to Vulcan Intelligence. They usually took her advice on such matters, as far she she knew.

She took a deep breath and felt her emotions drifting down to the bottom of her consciousness.

She left the ladies room and saw a young Vulcan man standing in the dark hallway.

â€œGood Afternoon,â€ he said in Vulcan. His accent was peculiar, and Tâ€™Pol assumed he must have grown up on a colony rather than on Vulcan.

â€œGood Afternoon,â€ she said.

â€œYouâ€™re from the human starship,â€ he said.

â€œYes,â€ she replied.

The young man took a step forward. He looked her up and down in a way that was terribly un-Vulcan. He definitely had been raised on a colony.

â€œThatâ€™s a human uniform,â€ he stated.

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œNow if youâ€™ll excuse me. . .â€

â€œYou canâ€™t trust Javon. He doesnâ€™t care what happens to you,â€ said Ston, â€œHe doesnâ€™t want to help you.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing.

â€œI can help you. I want to help you.â€

She remained silent for a long time, looking over the young manâ€™s clothes and taking note of the unusual way carried himself. He also smelled different, for a Vulcan.

â€œHow could you help me?â€

â€œI know what they are mining at the Romulan colony,â€ he blurted.

She raised an eyebrow.

â€œI can get you a sample of it,â€ he said.

â€œWhy would you do that?â€ she asked.

â€œBecause someone should know what they are doing, and I donâ€™t trust Javon to give the information to the Vulcans.â€

â€œI donâ€™t work for the Vulcans,â€ she said.

Ston walked up to her, standing very close into her personal space. There was something very wrong about him. He also seemed to know who she was, and she didnâ€™t like that this far into the frontier.

â€œBut the people you work for - the humans, they want to know what is being mined on the Romulan planet. Wouldnâ€™t you like to give it them?â€

â€œHow do you know what they are mining?â€

Ston leaned closer.

â€œI have sources.â€

â€œWhat do you want in return?â€

â€œNothing.â€

She didnâ€™t believe him.

â€œJust want to do my part,â€ he said.

â€œWhen can you get this sample to me?â€

â€œThis afternoon,â€ he said, â€œI can get it to you this afternoon at 5 oâ€™clock station time. Meet me in the center of the catwalk on main observation deck. Come alone.â€

The young man reached up and brushed the side of Tâ€™Polâ€™s cheek. He was not Vulcan, that she knew.

â€œIâ€™ll see you then,â€ said Ston, as he slipped away.

****

â€œYouâ€™re not even considering going alone, I hope,â€ said Trip.

They had returned to their room and were waiting for Malcolm and Hoshi to arrive.

â€œI will consult Lt. Commander Reed regarding proper Starfleet protocols for such a situation,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol.

Trip sat down on the couch by the window.

â€œI donâ€™t like the way this guy spooked you,â€ replied Trip, and donâ€™t even try to deny it. Youâ€™re spooked I can feel it.â€

She sat down next to him and leaned into an embrace, confirming just how off-put she was. He put his arms around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

â€œI donâ€™t believe he is a Vulcan,â€ she said.

â€œYou think heâ€™s a Romulan spy, then,â€ he replied.

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œHeâ€™s not a trained spy. He was too transparent. I donâ€™t know what he is or what he wants, and that is disconcerting.â€

She remained quiet for a time after that, and he let the silence remain in the room. Then, they found themselves discussing the situation with the quarantine and how soon they thought they might return to the ship. Suddenly, returning to the ship felt like a very good idea to both of them. They might need to stay around the station for awhile longer, but the ship offered some measure of protection from whatever it was about this station that felt so threatening.

The chime on the door rang. Tâ€™Pol stood up and pressed the control that would allow her to see who was on the other side of the door. She then activated the control to open it.

Malcolm and Hoshi entered, looking worn-out tired and sick. Not just a little bit sick, but both of them looked as though they had been through an ion storm.

â€œAre you two alright?â€ asked Trip, â€œBecause you both look like hell.â€

â€œWe didnâ€™t get much sleep,â€ replied Hoshi, â€œThere was a chemical in the sauna steam that kept us awake most of the night.â€

Malcolm glanced over at her. Since they were both feeling better, they had decided to not explain the exact details of what had occurred, but he supposed telling mostly the truth was a good avenue.

â€œDo you require a doctor?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWeâ€™ll have Phlox take a look when we get back to the ship as a precaution,â€ replied Hoshi, â€œbut I think weâ€™re both feeling better.â€

Trip wanted to ask what they were doing in the sauna together, but heâ€™d need to get to that when her and Malcolm were off duty. Instead, the four of them sat down and planned for Tâ€™Polâ€™s afternoon meeting with the strange Romulan. Tâ€™Pol even decided to brief Hoshi on all the details of their journey, including the identity of her contact. Since the four of them were effectively on their own for the next couple of days, it made no sense to withhold any information, especially since Hoshiâ€™s linguistic skills were going to be necessary to confirm the young man was Romulan.

â€œIâ€™ve only heard snatches of the language, but Iâ€™m guessing I could recognize Vulcan spoken in a Romulan accent,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œIâ€™ll record our entire conversation,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œMalcolm, it is imperative that this person thinks I am there alone. However, I donâ€™t believe he is trained in such matters. It shouldnâ€™t be too risky to try and fool him.â€

Malcolm pushed aside the aches and the headache and concentrated on the map they had obtained of the main observation deck. Fortunately, the catwalk was out in the open, and thus it was unlikely that Tâ€™Polâ€™s contact was going to attempt any foul play. Malcolm carefully developed a plan in which he would cover her from a position in a small balcony just above the main observation catwalk, where he could secure a position with a phase pistol without being seen. Trip would cover the Tâ€™Pol the south entrance of the catwalk, making sure no one approached her from behind. The north entrance would be uncovered, but Tâ€™Pol would have an excellent view. She would also have a phase pistol in her bag.

It was the best plan Malcolm could come up with his limited resources, and he hoped it would be enough.

****

Ston waited patiently on the catwalk for his sister to arrive. It spanned several hundred meters across the center of a massive window that was twenty decks high and overlooked the planet below.

He couldnâ€™t wait to see Tâ€™Pol again and give her her present. It had been a brilliant idea that he had thought of the night before. He would give her something so valuable, so helpful to her cause, that she would just have to like him. She would be in his debt.

He reached into his pocket and fingered a small box made of Romulan lead, and he thought of how special the contents were. Very few people even in the Empire knew what they were mining on the nearby colony or its potential use. Ston knew because he had heard his father had discussed it with him several times, trying to get Ston interested in the strategic value of various systems in the area. Ston couldnâ€™t have cared less about that, but he did know what the element in his pocket meant.

It hadnâ€™t been easy for him to obtain in such a short time, but Maleek was already in contact with some Romulans associated with the mining operation aboard the station and was able to use Stonâ€™s family name to obtain the small sample. He sighed and thought that there were advantages to being his fatherâ€™s son. People did things - even extraordinary things - if you asked them.

He saw her appear on the north end of the catwalk, and he caught his breath. This was it. He stood up straight and waited for her to approach.

â€œGood afternoon,â€ he said in Vulcan.

She nodded, and then she waited.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little, lead box. He held it up in the palm of his hand. She reached up to take it, but he gently pulled it back.

â€œWhat was it like growing up on Vulcan?â€ he asked.

â€œVulcan is an agreeable place,â€ she said.

â€œWere you lonely after your father died?â€

That startled her, and she paused before answering.

â€œLosing a parent is never an easy experience,â€ she said carefully.

She examined the young manâ€™s features, and a thought crept into her head. Something in his carriage and the bone structure of his face struck her as familiar.

â€œNo, it isnâ€™t,â€ he said, â€œMy mother died when I was young."

â€œMy condolences,â€ she replied and very carefully took the box from his hand.

Ston looked her directly in the eyes and smiled. He knew that she knew he wasnâ€™t Vulcan, he thought himself a fool to think heâ€™d be able to fool her. No, she was too smart for that.

â€œTake it,â€ he said, â€œand when you want more information about it, you can come and find me.â€

She nodded and realized she didnâ€™t want to turn her back on this person, but she didnâ€™t have an option. Walking in reverse would draw attention to her, and she didnâ€™t need that.

As she turned to go, she felt his eyes on her. She was very puzzled. Assuming whatever what in the box was genuine, why in Surakâ€™s name had he given it to her?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns all, this is just for fun.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns all, this is just for fun.

Rating: NC-17 For explicit sex, drug and alcohol abuse and language - all the things that make life fun.  


* * *

Enme crossed the busy street outside the capital building on Romulus. People who saw him, generally got out of his way, given that he was wearing an Imperial Guard Uniform and carried himself like he had somewhere important to be. A couple of young women admired the uniform and the relatively young man in it, something he dutifully pretended to neither notice or be flattered by. If it were another time or place, he would have happily stopped to make conversation with the prettiest of the young women, but this day he had too many pressing concerns to indulge in such distractions.

There was a young woman standing on the steps of the capitol building that he did notice, however. She also wore an imperial uniform and the boxy-haircut that went along with it, though her hair and eyes were much darker than his.

â€œRavel,â€ he said in his own language, â€œyou look well.â€

â€œGood to see you, Enme,â€ said Ravel, â€œItâ€™s been a long time. In fact, the last time I saw you was when we graduated from the military academy. How many years ago was that?â€

â€œToo many,â€ replied Enme, â€œI was sent far away after that. Father thought I needed toughing up.â€

She had heard that the ProConsul had sent his favorite, eldest son to the toughest battle zones of the Empire as an attempt to some how make up for his sonâ€™s privileged upbringing.

â€œI hear you acquitted yourself admirably,â€ said Ravel.

â€œIâ€™ve heard the same about you,â€ said Enme, â€œthat you went deep undercover on Vulcan and provided father with copious amounts of intelligence. I never would have pegged you to go into intelligence. I guess that shows how much I knew you.â€

Ravel looked up at Enme, who was nearly a head taller than she, and smiled.

â€œYou never really knew me at all,â€ she laughed, â€œnot that I would have allowed myself to become another notch on your belt, Enme. I have too much pride for that.â€

Enme smirked. His womanizing ways had slowed down quite a bit since the academy, but there was no need for Ravel to know that.

â€œHowâ€™s his mood?â€ asked Enme.

Ravel gestured to the section of the capitol where the ProConsulâ€™s office was located.

â€œHeâ€™s tense,â€ she replied, â€œDid he tell you about my recent assignment? The special, personal assignment?â€

Enme nodded. He had received a long letter along with orders to return to Romulus. Apparently, his father had an errand that he wanted run, and he only trusted Enme to do it.

â€œWhat was she like?â€ he asked.

â€œSheâ€™s admirable,â€ replied Ravel, â€œand sheâ€™s no ordinary Vulcan. Sheâ€™s not as afraid of her emotions as most of them. I suppose that should be expected, but sheâ€™s not one of us, either. Iâ€™ll wager she doesnâ€™t have the taste for copper blood that runs particularly acute in your family.â€

Enme was wearing the black gloves that went along with the imperial uniform, but it was a hot day, so he removed them and put them in his coat pocket. He looked down at his hands and wondered if Vulcan hands looked the same. He supposed they probably did.

â€œYouâ€™re taller,â€ continued Ravel, â€œbut she looks enough like you. I knew exactly who she was the moment I set eyes on her.â€

Enme shook his head.

â€œFather thinks Ston has gone off to try and find her,â€ he said simply.

â€œYou know Ston better than I,â€ she said, â€œDo you think he would be that reckless?â€

Enme thought fro a moment. He was was closer to Ston that his two younger brothers, and even he didnâ€™t really understand what went on in the young manâ€™s head.

â€œI doubt he would see it as reckless,â€ replied Enme,â€He would see it as - romantic, and that is what frightens me.â€

â€œI assume youâ€™re going to have to go after him,â€ she said.

â€œIt appears so,â€ replied Enme, â€œWould you be interested in joining me? But Iâ€™ll warn you, I doubt weâ€™ll be traveling in a first class warbird. Not this timeâ€

â€œYouâ€™re father would never let me go,â€ she said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

Enme tried to not look too crestfallen, but he didnâ€™t relish heading out into no manâ€™s land by himself.

****

The evening after obtaining the box, Tâ€™Pol and Trip worked together to secure the contents of the in one of the labs on Enterprise. As much as they enjoyed their time alone, it was a blessed relief to be back aboard the ship where they felt secure and in control of their surroundings. The captain didnâ€™t want to leave space dock without knowing what, if anything valuable had been obtained, but even docked Enterprise felt more secure than the wide open station. There were just too many strange variables there.

Safely ensconced behind radiation proof transparent aluminum, Tâ€™Pol used a robotic arm to open the box. Inside, there were some hard, white crystals that could have been any number of elements. However, when she dropped them into the scanner, it did not recognize the crystals. Tâ€™Pol looked over the data and was suddenly relieved that they hadnâ€™t opened the box. The element appeared highly radioactive.

â€œCommander,â€ she said to Trip in her most professional tone, â€œcome look at this.â€

Trip examined the screen next to her and caught his breath. His heart started to beat faster.

â€œIâ€™ve never seen anything like it,â€ he said, â€œThis makes uranium look like childâ€™s play.â€

â€œThe Vulcan Science Directorate has heard rumors of such an element, but they have not ever confirmed its existence. If this is what I think it is, we may have a first sample of dilithium.â€

Trip reread the scans over and over. If the energy readings were correct, this stuff could power engines as fast as Warp 8 - maybe even 9. That didnâ€™t even include any possible military applications for the substance.

â€œDamn. No wonder the Romulans want this stuff,â€ he said, feeling a bit weak in the knees. An enemy with ships that fast might prove unbeatable.

Trip looked at her. There was no way the alliance could allow the Romulans to continue accessing dilithium unchecked. If he were an admiral, and he was glad he wasnâ€™t, he knew exactly what planet heâ€™d secure once the fighting broke out.

â€œCaptain,â€ said Tâ€™Pol into the comm, â€œCommander Tucker and I have discovered the nature of the substance. Youâ€™ll want to see this in person.â€

Archer arrived just a few minutes later, and as the son of Henry Archer, he knew exactly what he was looking at and what it meant. Game changing didnâ€™t even begin to cover it.

â€œDo you think they know how to use this stuff?â€ he asked.

â€œWeâ€™ve never heard of them being able to travel faster than Warp 6,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œthat would imply that havenâ€™t yet figured out how to adapt their engines to be powered by dilithium, but it is safe to assume they are working on it.â€

â€œWeâ€™ll need to get a team to the planet where they are mining this,â€ said Archer, â€œand see how extensive their operation is. We also need find out why a Romulan would give us this.â€

Archer paused for a moment and looked Tâ€™Pol straight in the eye.

â€œAlthough, I have a feeling he gave you this, not us. You didnâ€™t recognize him? He didnâ€™t give you any hint?â€

She shook her head.

â€œDo you think you could find him again?â€

â€œYes, Captain. He seemed to count on that.â€

In never failed to amaze Trip how collected Tâ€™Pol could appear, even when she was suppressing a case of nerves. There was no hint of anxiety in her face or her voice. In fact, he could feel the feelings inside her just slipping away. Emotional control was a constant process for her.

â€œWe might just have to do that,â€ said Archer, â€œbut we will also need to confirm that this is in fact what they are mining. My gut tells me it is, but weâ€™ll need more than that before filing a report with Starfleet. Itâ€™s time to bring Malcolm in on this. Iâ€™m sure heâ€™ll have suggestions on how best to proceed. Weâ€™re going to have to get in - get the evidence and get out. Then, weâ€™ll come back here and figure who the hell decided we should have this information.â€

â€œSir,â€ said Trip, â€œit could be a trap. This guy, whoever he was, could be trying to lure us there so they can. . . blow us out of the sky.â€

â€œPossible,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut I fail to see why it would be logical to destroy Earthâ€™s flagship. Such an action near such a strategic site wouldnâ€™t be logical. If war comes, they would want it far away from this system.â€

â€œRomulans donâ€™t strike me as all that logical,â€ said Trip.

â€œWeâ€™ll just have to be extra careful,â€ said Archer, â€œIâ€™ll give Malcolm a few hours to come up with a strategic plan, then weâ€™ll be on our way.â€

****

Enme sat comfortably in the chair across from his fatherâ€™s desk, shaking his head in frustration.

â€œFather,â€ he said, â€œsurely Ravel would make a more appropriate choice. She has recent experience in retrieval. Iâ€™ve never even left Romulan Space on that side of our borders. Iâ€™ve never met a Vulcan, nor am I interested in masquerading as one.â€

The ProConsulâ€™s chair was turned toward the window, his back to his favorite son. He swiveled around and faced him.

â€œSton has come undone,â€ he said softly, â€œand I fear there is no saving him, but you are the one I trust to try.â€

Enme nodded.

â€œWhat do you think he wants with her?â€

The ProConsul didnâ€™t move and his face showed no expression. He pulled up a photograph on his screen. It was of Ston as a small child, along with his deceased mother.

â€œHe never adapted after his mother died. He never accepted us as his family, even before then. He wants her to be his family.â€

Enme had never had much of an interest in his long-lost older sister. He and his full brothers hadnâ€™t even known of her existence until they were adults. Ston only knew because their father had been trying to explain why he had taken Ston away from his home. Several times, Ston had tried to engage Enme in conversations about her, that in hindsight, suggested an unhealthy obsession.

â€œIâ€™ve transferred a dossier on her to you,â€ said the ProConsul, â€œRead it on your way. Ideally, you wonâ€™t encounter her, but we both know this is a less than ideal situation.â€

Enme nodded to his father, and he wished fervently he was back at his training station with his men. Things were uncomplicated there.

â€œGood Luck,â€ said The ProConsul, who turned to stare at the window again. Enme knew that was his cue to leave, which he happily did.

****

â€œItâ€™s glowing,â€ said Malcolm, as he stared at the dilithium.

â€œWhat do you mean?â€ asked Trip.

â€œDonâ€™t you see the glow? Itâ€™s emanating some sort of radiation or something.â€

â€œThe radiation it emits shouldnâ€™t be visible to the human eye,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

The three of them stood behind the barrier in the lab, staring at the small crystals.

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œunless Iâ€™ve gone mad, I can see them.â€

Tâ€™Pol approached Malcolm and examined his eyes.

â€œCan Vulcans see them glowing?â€ asked Malcolm as he widened his pupils.

â€œNo,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œVulcan sight isnâ€™t as acute as human sight. Even the color spectrum we can see is slightly less than the one humanâ€™s see.â€

â€œMaybe its genetic,â€ suggested Trip, â€œMaybe Malcolmâ€™s got a trait that lets him see it.â€

Tâ€™Pol kept examining Malcolm and crinkled her brow.

â€œLt. Commander,â€ she said, â€œDo you realize that your pupils are dilated?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œI suggest you see Phlox,â€ she said.

â€œWeâ€™ll my eyes have been a bit sensitive to light since Hoshi and I breathed in some Andorian aroma therapy last night.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œGo see Phlox,â€ she said, â€œand Iâ€™ll have Lt. Sato join you. Thatâ€™s an order.â€

â€œYes, maâ€™am,â€ said Malcolm.

He headed off to sickbay, as ordered.

Trip looked at Tâ€™Pol, his curiosity piqued.

â€œYou donâ€™t think heâ€™s sick. Whatâ€™s up?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked at him intently.

â€œCommander, it would be inappropriate for me to reveal personal information about Lt. Commander Reedâ€™s condition unless I can count on your discretion. The information is relevant. . .â€

â€œSpill it.â€

â€œAndorians donâ€™t just enjoy their ale. They habitually inhale strong hallucinogens that they believe enhance their latent telepathic abilities. If Mr. Reed and Ms. Sato inhaled one of these substances, it might explain why his eyes are suddenly able to register a broader spectrum than normal. There might be other side effects as well.â€

Trip was suddenly not so amused.

â€œThey could have really been hurt,â€ he said.

â€œIt seems they were lucky,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œOnly time will tell what, if any lasting effects the substance might have.â€

â€œI wonder if it was fun,â€ said Trip, still looking worried.

â€œFrom what little I know,â€ she replied, â€œthe substances cause a general sense of euphoria as well as psychotropic visions.â€

â€œWell,â€ said tentatively Trip, â€œat least we werenâ€™t the only oneâ€™s enjoying ourselves last night.â€

She raised that familiar eyebrow, but she said nothing.

****

Ston and Maleek had had enough of the Vulcan Section, and since Ston didnâ€™t expect his sister to return for awhile, he didnâ€™t feel it necessary to be there. They instead, dined at a Tellarite establishment that had a nice view of Enterprise.

â€œYou wonâ€™t see her in the windows,â€ said Maleek.

â€œNo,â€ said Ston, â€œbut I like knowing sheâ€™s there. I like knowing I did her a favor.â€

Maleekâ€™s stomach turned.

â€œA treasonous favor,â€ he sighed. If he had known what Ston had intended to do with that dilithium sample, Maleek never would have given it to him. Ston had told him that he wanted the sample for his father, and that the ProConsul would greatly appreciated the favor. Maleek could kick himself for believing Ston, whom he had always found diverting, interesting and a little bit insane. Now, Maleek was starting to think Ston had gone a lot insane. However, his merchant family wasnâ€™t nearly as powerful as Stonâ€™s patrician one. He wasnâ€™t in a position to make an enemy of Ston.

Nevertheless, it was one thing helping Ston meet his long lost sister, but helping him pass industrial secrets to a Vulcan was quite another. Maleek was starting to feel in over his head, but he wasnâ€™t sure what he was going to do about it.

â€œOnce Iâ€™m friends with my sister, â€œ said Ston, â€œIâ€™ll have her introduce you to the linguist. The one you said was cute.â€

Maleek rolled his eyes. He had remarked that the human linguist, the first human female he had ever laid eyes on, was very pretty. However, Ston was letting his imagination run a little bit wild.

â€œLook,â€ said Maleek, â€œyou met your sister. You did her a really risky, very big favor. Maybe that should be enough. We could go home now. . .â€

Ston threw down his fork in shock and frustration.

â€œShe doesnâ€™t even know who I am yet,â€ said Ston.

â€œThereâ€™s no way of knowing if sheâ€™ll be back,â€ replied Maleek.

â€œSheâ€™ll be back,â€ said Ston.

Maleek sighed. This excursion was rapidly becoming less than fun.

****

Malcolm and Hoshi walked together side by side, leaving sickbay.

â€œI suppose we should feel lucky we didnâ€™t kill ourselves,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œNo,â€ said Malcolm, â€œweâ€™ll just be feeling strange side effects for the next. . .six months or so. Not including being able to see otherwise invisible radiation, dilated pupils and spontaneous mild hallucinations.â€

â€œYou donâ€™t get those normally?â€ she asked.

He gave a strange look.

â€œKidding,â€ she said, â€œYou heard what Phlox said. Itâ€™s nothing we canâ€™t control or handle, and heâ€™s going to be discreet about it.â€

â€œI just feel so stupid,â€ he said.

â€œHey,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIt was my idea. Iâ€™m the one who should feel stupid, but really in the grand scheme of things, this is better than most bad things that could happen.â€

They had reached Hoshiâ€™s quarters.

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œgoodnight.â€

Hoshi looked up and down the hallway.

â€œDo you want to come in?â€

Malcolm froze. He had no idea what to make of the invitation.

â€œI want to see if I can induce some of the hallucinations,â€ she said, â€œfor research purposes.â€

She quickly ushered Malcolm into her quarters, which were about the same size as his, with shelves filled with language books and mementos from their early missions. Hoshi stepped over to her console and turned on some ambient music. She turned off all the lights.

Malcolm was starting to feel a little awkward. He had no idea what she was about to do.

â€œLie down,â€ she said, gesturing to the bed. She clearly wanted his head at the foot.

Malcolm couldnâ€™t think of anything else to do, so he obeyed. She tossed him one of the pillows and grabbed another for herself.

â€œScoot over,â€ she said.

Again, he obeyed.

â€œNow weâ€™ll just listen to the music and look at the stars,â€ she said, â€œI like them so much better when they are not a blur. Donâ€™t you?â€

â€œTheyâ€™re getting kind of melty,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œUh huh,â€ she replied wistfully.

****

It was nearly a week later when Enmeâ€™s small vessel found its way to the Romulan mining planet. He had gotten some intelligence from the foreman that his brother had been seen on a nearby space station, but he wanted to stop off and speak to the man personally before heading off to the station. Standard intelligence reports over subspace could be notoriously inaccurate. Also, he wasnâ€™t quite ready to board a station filled with dozens of different unknown species. He thought the foreman would help him understand what to expect.

â€œDamn you, Ston,â€ he said, exiting his vessel and taking in the small but sophisticated mining operation.

The foreman met him on the landing pad. He was a middle-aged man, chosen for his competence and loyalty to the empire.

â€œGood afternoon, sirâ€ he said, with a nod that deferred to the younger manâ€™s rank and class.

â€œGood Afternoon,â€ replied Enme.

â€œI believe that I have some news for you,â€ he said, â€œI have word about your brother. He is currently at Hirku Station. Itâ€™s no rumor. Heâ€™s there, as of the report I got this morning. Moreover, heâ€™s contacted us asking if he can have some space here. I told him he could have one of the smaller out buildings that weâ€™re not using - as a favor to your family.â€

Enme nodded. It appears that Ston might be on his way to Enme, rather than Enme having to go to Ston.

****

â€œMalcolm thinks it will take at least two weeks for us to figure out a way to navigate a shuttlepod around the cloaked mines in order to get scans of the mining operation. That should give us plenty of time to modify the sensors to detect dilithium,â€ said Trip.

The engineer was lying face down on the floor of his quarters, shirtless. His wife knelt next to him, applying pressure to each neural node in his spine. She sensed a great deal of worry in him since the discovery of what the Romulans were probably mining nearby. In fact, it was the first time in many months Tâ€™Pol sensed worry that didnâ€™t directly have to do with her. Although she didnâ€™t like him worried at all and the direction of her thoughts seemed illogically selfish, she preferred not to be the direct cause of his concerns.

â€œIt should be a simple matter of getting the shuttlepod in and out quickly, before any cloaked vessels discover its presence,â€ she replied, pressing deeply with her fingers.

He caught his breath as he felt the tension ease from his body, if not his mind.

â€œWhatâ€™s troubling you, Thyâ€™la,?â€ whispered Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIs it that obvious that Iâ€™m troubled? I was trying to hide it from you,â€ he said as he sat up.

She looked at him in the candlelight, which made the shadows of his handsome face more pronounced. Even if she hadnâ€™t been bonded with him, she would have recognized his unsettled thoughts. If she had been mated with a Vulcan male, she would have shared deep feelings only through the bond, but she wasnâ€™t married to a Vulcan. Trip, she had come to understand, needed to actually verbalize his emotions in order to deal with them.

Trip leaned over and took her hand and immediately she felt some of the tension leave his mind. Some, but not all.

â€œIâ€™m scared,â€ he said, â€œI donâ€™t think the alliance is ready for any of this.â€

He knew she agreed.

â€œWeâ€™re helping get them ready,â€ she said, â€œHopefully, full scale hostilities can be put off for as long as possible.â€

â€œI suppose that means youâ€™re not willing to help find a little out-of-the-way colony on the the other side of the quadrant where we could ride out this storm in peace and quiet. Maybe raise a couple of kids while weâ€™re at it?â€

She squeezed his hand.

â€œIt is illogical to dwell on what cannot be,â€ she replied softly, â€œand since you would never abandon your people in a time of crisis the scenario you described cannot be.â€

â€œIt just seems like you and I have paid our dues already, ten fold,â€ he breathed.

Tâ€™Pol let go of his hand, resolving to comfort him in a more human manner. She carefully put her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. By now she was accustomed to receiving such embraces but initiating them still did not come naturally to her. He squeezed her tightly, rocking her back and forth for a moment before he gently pushed her down to the floor.

He looked into her eyes for a long while before leaning down and nuzzling at her neck. She tried to embrace him again but he used his own hands to pin her hands down next to her ears. His mouth moved from her neck to one of the pointed tips of her ears, tracing it with his tongue. He then slowly moved to the other ear, giving it the same careful treatment. Then, very slowly, his mouth found hers and he kissed her. Everything felt in slow motion, as though he wanted to prolong every second, savor every moment.

She let him take his time, calling on her Vulcan patience to do so, though she was starting to breathe a little heavier and felt a slow ache between her legs. He, too, was aroused. She felt his hardness pressed against her and moaned into his mouth.

He finally released her hands so he could unbutton her top and release her breasts from their confinement. He teased her green hued nipples with his thumbs before leaning down to tease each one with his tongue.

Through the bond, she knew he wanted to test her patience, see how long it would take her to become restless and demand satisfaction. She took the challenge, closing her eyes and focused on every movement of his tongue, every caress of his hands. Practically in a meditative state, she felt him slip her silk pants off her legs, stopping briefly to caress her calves as he did so.

He crawled back up slowly and pressed a nearly chaste kiss on her lips. Even though her eyes were closed, she knew he was looking at her and enjoying every curve of her bronze body. He was familiar with every centimeter by now, and he had become more and more possessive of her as the time passed. He remembered the months when he thought he had lost her to a loveless marriage. Then, their cultural differences nearly tore them apart. But now that she was his, he wasnâ€™t ever going to let anything come between them again. Tâ€™Pol felt both a promise and something vaguely threatening in this assertion he was making through the bond. He may not have been a Vulcan, but he would fight for her like one if the need arose.

He leaned down and kissed her again, this time harder and more aggressively. Her Vulcan nature, hard-wired by centuries of evolution, responded instinctively. She pulled him closer, nails scratching at his back.

Before she knew what was happening, he turned her over and lifted her to her knees. She felt his hands move down her back to her behind, still slow enough to try her patience. She finally whimpered just a bit. That was all he needed. He got on his knees and entered her. She had long been ready, but it was still sudden and she gasped. He gave her just a moment to adjust, gently caressing the nape of her neck before starting to move inside her. She sensed he had lost patience with his own game, and he now wanted things to go quickly. He reached around her body and began to coax a climax from her. It didnâ€™t take long, and she was soon muffling her cries of pleasure in her hands. He kept going for awhile longer, even as she remained dizzy and almost delirious. Finally, she felt him come inside her and collapse against her.

Still in her dreamlike haze, she felt him rest his head on the back of her neck as he put one arm around her. He felt content and at peace; his earlier worries far away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: R to NC-17, depending on your milage for explicit (R/S) sex and drug use.

  
Author's notes: Rating: R to NC-17, depending on your milage for explicit (R/S) sex and drug use.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.  


* * *

Enme of Romulus looked out the window of his room on the Romulan mining colony and surveyed the desolate, mountainous landscape. He was glad it wasnâ€™t that beautiful, since the men here would soon be strip mining it beyond recognition.

â€œI am Enme of Romulus,â€ he said to no one in particular, as he was alone, â€œand I am bloody annoyed.â€

Enme knew he had no right to feel sorry for himself. He had won the genetic lottery, having been born the first son of one of the Empireâ€™s wealthiest and most powerful men. He had every advantage growing up, including brains, athletic ability and charm. Sure, he couldnâ€™t draw a straight line and he was a lousy dancer, but that didnâ€™t matter much in the grand scheme of things. No, he was a blessed man and self-pity would be disingenuous.

Unfortunately, the Gods had seen fit to make up for that by giving him two irritating full brothers and a half-brother that was out-of-his mind. One of his full siblings worked as a legislative assistant in Capitol City and had his own sights on the Senate. Consequently, Enme couldnâ€™t stand to be the same room with for very long, so low was his tolerance for ass-kissing and schmoozing. The next youngest brother never met a bottle of Romulan Ale he couldnâ€™t finish in one sitting and was well-acquainted with most of the high-end concubines on Romulans, which made his company only slightly less trying than the one before. Then, there was Ston.

Enme had always known Ston to be high-strung, but he hadnâ€™t quite realized how stupid he was. The best case scenario he could imagine involved Ston being locked away in a mental hospital for the rest of his days. This wasnâ€™t because of his ill-advised journey to meet their long-lost Vulcan sister, although that was stupid. Under Romulan law, giving her a sample of dilithium was treason. Treason was punishable by death. If he was in a merciful mood, their father could exile the boy in a sanitarium. If not, Enme was relatively certain their father to be capable of ordering Stonâ€™s execution.

Stonâ€™s stupidity and recklessness had put the whole mining operation under threat. Enme also believed that Ston posed a threat to their sister. From reading her dossier, Enme had no doubt that she could take care of herself, but he also knew that Ston had the element of surprise on his side.

****

Tâ€™Pol carried her bag over her shoulder as she headed to the shuttle bay.

â€œI donâ€™t see why I canâ€™t go with you,â€ said Trip.

â€œBecause youâ€™re needed here,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, in full on Vulcan stoic mode, â€œand the captain believes that you would pose an unnecessary distraction for me.â€

â€œWas I such a distraction last time?â€

She didnâ€™t even bother raising the eyebrow.

â€œFair enough,â€ said Trip, â€œbut promise me youâ€™ll take good care of Malcolm. Hoshi, too.â€

Tâ€™Pol stopped just outside the shuttle bay. She stood on her toes to kiss him goodbye where no members of the crew could see.

â€œI promise. You take care of the captain. We should be back in two days.â€

â€œSay hi to the station for me. And donâ€™t use the sauna in your single room, I hear its dangerous.â€

â€œSee you in two days,â€ she said as she pivoted on her feet and headed into the bay.

Trip felt uneasy, but he sucked it up. She could take care of herself and he had to trust in that.

****

Some hours later, the shuttlepod with Hoshi, Malcolm and Tâ€™Pol docked into the station again. Since the modifications that would allow them to avoid the minefield and scan for dilithium were going to take time, Captain Archer had decided Tâ€™Pol should return to the station and carefully try and determine why the Romulan had given her the dilithium. Everyone agreed he wanted something, but no one knew what. That was their only goal. Malcolm was along for extra security and backup, while Hoshi was to get as much exposure to the Romulan language as she could.

Tâ€™Pol had decided to stay in the Vulcan Section of the station this time, while Hoshi and Malcolm were going to stay at the hotel section.

â€œStay in constant communication,â€ said Malcolm.

Tâ€™Pol nodded and slipped away into the bustling hallways of the stationâ€™s transport area.

â€œSo, now we wait,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œIâ€™ve booked us just one room,â€ said Hoshi, â€œas I thought we might want to stay on the space side.â€

Malcolm accepted this news as normal. They had spent a few more platonic nights together in Hoshiâ€™s room, so it made sense that they share. Still, he was getting a bit confused as to the nature of his relationship with Hoshi. They had become close in the last few days, but he didnâ€™t have a clue what that meant. Furthermore, the last thing he need on such an important mission was an unwelcome distraction. He was too old and too experienced to allow some sort of a crush on his colleague to interfere with his work.

Blast this Andorian acid or whatever it is, thought Malcolm. Heâ€™d done research on various psychotropic substances and learned that some of them caused people to develop attachments to fellow users of the drug. Other substances simply uncovered attraction that was already there. He didnâ€™t know which was which, or whether Hoshi was attracted or not. Now they were going to be sharing a room, and that was an unwelcome yet undeniably intriguing complication.

****

Back on Enterprise, Trip got pinged that there was a subspace communication call for him. It was personal, so he took it in his quarters rather than in Engineering. It was from Mississippi.

He pressed the button the screen and his motherâ€™s face appeared. She was in her sixties, with greying hair and a few lines. She appeared worried.

â€œHello Trip,â€ she said.

â€œHi Mom,â€ he replied, â€œHas something happened?â€

â€œNo,â€ she replied.

Trip waited for a moment. His mother was usually plenty talkative, so obviously something was wrong. No doubt she was still angry about him marrying Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWell,â€ said Trip, â€œitâ€™s good to see you.â€

â€œIs your wife there?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Trip, â€œSheâ€™s out on a mission. Sheâ€™ll be back in a few days.â€

â€œOh,â€ she said, â€œIt must be nice to have the place to yourself.â€

â€œNot really. I miss her every moment sheâ€™s gone,â€ replied Trip pointedly.

His mother took at deep breath, but she said nothing. Finally, Trip had had enough.

â€œLook, Mom,â€ said Trip, â€œI get that you and Dad donâ€™t approve of me marrying a Vulcan. . .or probably any alien, but I did. You donâ€™t even know her. . .â€

â€œCharles,â€ snapped his mother, â€œyou never gave us the chance to know her. You never told us the two of you were romantically involved. We heard that the two of you had a child when a reporter called the house to get a statement. . . â€œ

â€œBaby Elizabeth was a clone; we didnâ€™t even know she existed until a few days before she died. It was kinda an insane time. Before that, things were on and off between Tâ€™Pol and me. It was when we went to Vulcan for the funeral. . .we just decided we didnâ€™t want to be apart. Thatâ€™s when I sent you and Dad the letter.â€

â€œBut weâ€™ve still never met her. You didnâ€™t even want us to come to see you after the child died. . .you only sent letters. . . no calls . . .and weâ€™re stuck here knowing less than the reporters that call to question us.â€

â€œWe were going to come, Mom, but things got away from us.â€

Tripâ€™s mother shook her head in frustration.

â€œI canâ€™t say that we were thrilled to hear that youâ€™d gone and married that woman, after what happened. But that has nothing to do with her or her people. Truthfully, we donâ€™t like you living with a target on your back - the focus of so much attention. But weâ€™ll get used to it.â€

â€œThat woman has a name. Itâ€™s Tâ€™Pol.â€

Elaine Tuckerâ€™s face softened.

â€œYou said in your letter that you love her, but does she love you back? Can she?â€

Trip sighed.

â€œYes,â€ he said, â€œVulcans love. They just do it differently than humans.â€

â€œAnd is that enough for you?â€

Trip heard a tinge of sadness in his motherâ€™s voice.

â€œItâ€™s more than enough. Itâ€™s. . .just trust me. Sheâ€™s wonderful. I canâ€™t wait for you to meet her. . .and I wouldnâ€™t have survived the incident with Terra Prime without her. . .I promise youâ€™ll like her.â€

â€œIf you love her, weâ€™ll love her,â€ she said, though Trip thought she was trying to convince herself. Still, it was a start.

â€œThanks, Mom.â€

â€œI love you.â€

â€œLove you, too, Mom.â€

****

Tâ€™Pol sat across the table in the cafe from Javon. She had transfered the data about the dilithium to him.

â€œI assume this isnâ€™t shocking to you,â€ she said.

Javon shook his head.

â€œItâ€™s confirmation of what I suspected. I didnâ€™t know precisely what they were mining, but it had to be something along these lines. And while I do appreciate the information, thatâ€™s not why you are here. You want to know about the young man who gave you this sample.â€

Tâ€™Pol blinked and nodded.

â€œI know very little. He showed up a few weeks before you, and his interest wasnâ€™t in the alliance. He was interested in you. He wanted to meet you.â€

â€œWhy?â€

â€œHe never said.â€

Tâ€™Pol did not respond. She simply sipped on her Vulcan tea and stared at Javon. She had noticed a strange burn mark on his hand. She wasnâ€™t certain, but it was the kind of burn that could come from overuse of certain kinds of hyposprays, if they were used on an improper setting. Such marks were considered a tell-tale sign of drug addiction - different from Trellium-D, but often no less detrimental to Vulcan control. On this station, she assumed Javon would have access to a plethora of exotic substances.

â€œI believe he means you no harm,â€ said Javon, â€œor at least he thinks he means you no harm.â€

She nodded.

â€œCan you arrange a meeting? I would like to find out who he is.â€

â€œIs tomorrow morning soon enough?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. She instructed Javon to tell the young Romulan to meet her in the main observation area at 1100 hours.

The two finished their tea in silence. Then, before she left, she spoke again.

â€œHow have you found life on the station? Do you miss Vulcan?â€

Javon met her eyes.

â€œDo you?â€

â€œThere are many things I miss about the homeworld, but I am content with my choices.â€

â€œI should think so. Youâ€™re husband seems quite taken with you. No doubt he is more demonstrative than a typical Vulcan male. I know from experience how easy it is to succumb to such pleasures.â€

â€œIt seems to me youâ€™ve succumbed to many pleasures yourself,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, glancing down at his hand.

â€œTell me, Tâ€™Pol, how is it that you allowed yourself to acquiesce to your husbandâ€™s advances? Most Vulcans would easily suppress their feelings.â€

â€œYouâ€™re assuming it was he who made the advances.â€

If Vulcans smiled, Javon would have smiled at that. Instead, he just raised an eyebrow. He liked this woman, and he felt he knew her better than almost any Vulcan could.

â€œTouche. However, I suspect it took more than a pair of blue eyes and talented hands to tear down your Vulcan walls. What was it?â€

â€œThat is not your concern,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol without judgement. If anything, she felt enormous compassion for Javon.

â€œIt is not easy living among off worlders,â€ said Javon, â€œbut I have found that the sacrifices are worth it. Have you?â€

â€œYes,â€ she said simply.

â€œI do miss the simplicity sometimes,â€ he said, â€œthat notion that all can be solved with logic and that emotions can be controlled.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œYou shouldnâ€™t regret it,â€ said Javon, â€œItâ€™s worth it - no matter what the cost.â€

Tâ€™Pol felt her hands begin to tremble, but she suppressed it.

â€œI know.â€

****

Malcolm and Hoshi looked around the large, double room that was theirs for the night. It was the same one Trip and Tâ€™Pol had shared on the earlier mission. Hoshi threw her bag in the closet and headed into the bathroom.

â€œWow,â€ she said, â€œthat tub is not here for bathing. Itâ€™s big enough for two - three if youâ€™re a small species.â€

Malcolm laughed, awkwardly.

â€œIâ€™ll bet Trip and Tâ€™Pol made the most of this room,â€ continued Hoshi, noting the oversized bed as well as a mirror that was next to it.

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œthey are still newlyweds.â€

Hoshi laughed.

â€œIâ€™ll bet you any money you want that sheâ€™s fire under all that Vulcan ice. Iâ€™m sure they had plenty of fun,â€ said Hoshi.

Malcolm felt himself blushing. He really didnâ€™t like thinking about his friendsâ€™ sex life. It wasnâ€™t that the thought hadnâ€™t crossed his mind; it was just he felt like it was none of his business.

â€œYou know,â€ she said, â€œVulcans are touch telepaths, and it is thought that they form telepathic bonds with their â€˜matesâ€™. I studied Vulcan a great deal when I was younger. Their mating rituals are - unique that way.â€

Malcolm again remained silent.

â€œCan you imagine?â€ she continued, â€œHow great would the sex be if you knew exactly what the other person needed. What if you were mind-linked to them?â€

Hoshi laid down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

â€œYou think they are telepathically linked?â€ asked Malcolm, curious. He had noticed that Trip and Tâ€™Pol seemed unusually close.

â€œIâ€™m pretty sure,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™ve watched them work together since they came back from Vulcan. They are completely in synch with one another.â€

â€œSeems a waste,â€ said Malcolm, â€œto have such a link and only use it every seven years.â€

â€œMaybe she figured that out,â€ said Hoshi, â€œand thatâ€™s why she married him.â€

Malcolm approached the bed, and he laid down next to Hoshi. He hoped she wouldnâ€™t find him presumptuous, given the platonic nights they had spent together.

â€œMalcolm,â€ she said, â€œhave you felt a strange connection since we went on our little psychonaught journey? Because, I feel like Iâ€™ve connected with you in some way.â€

Malcolm sighed.

â€œIt could be the drug, Hoshi. It could be totally artificial.â€

â€œBut what if the drug uncovered something latent, something that was there all along.â€

Hoshi reached over and slipped her hand into Malcolmâ€™s hand. A energy sparked between. It wasnâ€™t exactly a telepathic bond, but it was something. The drug had some how connected them.

Malcolm decided enough was enough. He took his other hand and placed it gently on the side of Hoshiâ€™s face. He then leaned down and kissed her, harder than he thought he would, but she didnâ€™t seem to mind. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and her arms went around him. They kissed for a long time, until she finally broke the embrace.

â€œNo risk, no reward right?â€ she asked.

Malcolm may have been reticent to get involved, but once he decided to move forward, he was all in. His hands moved to the zipper of her uniform and he carefully, languidly undressed her while still being aggressive with his kisses. She returned the favor, removing his jumpsuit and regulation blues, then taking the time to explore the angles of his body with her fingers.

He looked her up and down, amazed at seeing her familiar body in such a new way. He didnâ€™t care if it was the drug anymore, he was just glad not to feel alone in this moment. He didnâ€™t care what tomorrow brought. He did however, care that she enjoyed herself.

His fingers found their way between her legs and he caressed her there. She moaned against his lips and whispered his name. She grabbed his shaft and moved him inside her. He gasped.

She looked into his eyes.

â€œThat feels so good,â€ she whispered.

He smiled and kissed her. As he moved inside her, his fingers worked the nub between her legs. They continued like that for a long while, until finally he felt her breathing quicken and body start to tremble. Spasms rocked her body and cried out. He then continued to move in her until he joined her in ecstasy.

After his breathing returned to normal, he rolled off her. She laughed.

â€œAre you okay?â€ he asked.

â€œIâ€™m great,â€ she said with a sigh, â€œThat was great.â€

â€œIf I had know how good that was going to be Iâ€™d have suggested we do that long ago.â€

She laughed again and snuggled up against him.

â€œI never thought this would happen. I mean, the thought had crossed my mind. . .but I never . . .well, anyway, Iâ€™m going to sleep well tonight.â€

He brushed the hair from her flushed face.

â€œMe too. Probably better than I have since the last time we were on this station.â€

****

The next morning, it was all business once Malcolm & Hoshi met Tâ€™Pol in the observation area. They discussed many options for the meeting, but finally decided that Tâ€™Pol would behave as though she simply wished to thank the Romulan. Hoshi would come along as a â€œfriendâ€ and Malcolm would watch from nearby, set-to-stun phase pistol at the ready.

At the appointed time, Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol sat at a little table near the giant window, doing their best to effect casualness. The cavernous observation area was crowded with all sorts of species.

From his vantage point, Malcolm immediately saw the young Romulan approach Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol. He couldnâ€™t hear what the conversation was, but after a few moments, it didnâ€™t matter.

The Romulan quickly appeared to tack on some kind of devices to Hoshi and Tâ€™Polâ€™s uniforms. Then, the three of them transported away.

â€œDammit,â€ said Malcolm, his heart in his throat.

The station had blocking technology that was supposed to prevent any unauthorized transports. Clearly, it hadnâ€™t worked.

Knowing it was useless to head to the spot from which his friends had disappeared, he headed straight for station security. They might know where the transporter signal came from and to which ship it belonged.

****

Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi found themselves aboard a conference room on what appeared to be a Vulcan freighter. The Romulan stood there staring at them.

â€œWelcome,â€ he said.

â€œWhy have you abducted us?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI needed to spend time with you,â€ he said, â€œwhich will be your thank you for the dilithium I gave you. I could get in a lot of trouble for that.â€

Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi locked eyes.

â€œAgain, thank you,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œAlthough I would like to know why you did it.â€

â€œItâ€™s supposed to be a secret,â€ said Ston, â€œbut Iâ€™m going to tell you. Maleek! Take the human woman out of here!â€

Maleek appeared in the doorway, and Tâ€™Pol immediately took note that he did not appear at all happy. She knew that these were civilians, unlike her previous experience with Romulan kidnapping.

â€œIâ€™m not going to hurt her,â€ said Maleek. His tone indicated exasperation rather menace, something else which Tâ€™Pol immediately noticed.

â€œShe is a citizen of Earth and a Starfleet officer. If something happens to her, anything, there will be consequences.â€

Maleek nodded.

â€œCome with me,â€ he said to Hoshi, â€œYouâ€™ll be fine.â€

When they had departed, Tâ€™Pol turned to Ston. She had been examining his features and decided they were familiar. She suspected he might be related to her, but she wasnâ€™t sure.

â€œI object to being kidnapped.â€

â€œDid you object when it happened before?â€

â€œYes.â€

Ston wrinkled his eyebrows at that.

â€œHeâ€™s very powerful, you know.â€

â€œHow do you know him?â€

â€œHeâ€™s my father. That makes you my sister.â€

Tâ€™Pol was in full-on Vulcan control mode. This news, while slightly surprising, did not affect her, except in it made it more likely that the young man meant her no harm.

â€œWhy have you abducted Hoshi?â€

â€œI didnâ€™t want you to be alone. Also, sheâ€™ll make good insurance in case you try and be unpleasant.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded to indicate she understood. She sat down at the table.

â€œSo,â€ she said, â€œdo you have a name?â€

Ston smiled and took the chair next to her.

â€œItâ€™s Ston, and Iâ€™m sorry I didnâ€™t get to meet you at my fatherâ€™s cottage. I was very disappointed.â€

â€œObviously,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Vulcans generally didnâ€™t lie, unless it was absolutely necessary. Tâ€™Pol determined that a course of deception was necessary in this case.

â€œYou know, it wasnâ€™t necessary for you to kidnap me. You need have only told me who you were . . .â€

Stonâ€™s face brightened at that.

â€œI couldnâ€™t take the chance you would go back to your ship right away. I went through a lot of trouble to see you.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, acknowledging his efforts.

â€œI understand,â€ she lied.

â€œIâ€™m not going to hurt you,â€ he said, brushing a stray hair from her face.

She pulled away instinctively and then immediately recognized that the move upset her captor.

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ she said, â€œVulcans do not like to be touched, especially by strangers.â€

Ston put his hand on her cheek and leaned very close to her.

â€œIâ€™m not a stranger. Iâ€™m your brother.â€

Tâ€™Pol lowered her eyes in faux subservience.

â€œNo. You are not a stranger, and so I think you would be happy to respect my customs.â€

Ston took his hand away.

â€œWe have a lot to talk about,â€ he said.

****

Maleek showed Hoshi to a room on the transport. He spoke to her in Romulan, impressed she understood without needing the translator.

â€œDonâ€™t worry,â€ said Maleek, â€œyou wonâ€™t be here long. Youâ€™ll be back on your ship before you know it.â€

Hoshi glared at him. Maleek sighed.

â€œI know you donâ€™t trust be. Why would you? But I can tell you that you and your friend are going to fine.â€

Hoshi looked very hard at the first Romulan she had ever seen up close. He was very young and quite un-menacing, and she didnâ€™t sense he was interested in harming her at all. He seemed genuinely apologetic.

â€œAre you a member of the military?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Maleek, â€œIf I were, you would be on your way to your ship by now. Iâ€™m really not in a position to help you, unless things get really out of hand. Itâ€™s a Romulan thing, but just relax.â€

Hoshi nodded. She felt the ship they were on go to warp.

â€œAre you taking us into Romulan Space?â€

â€œSort of,â€ said Maleek.

He walked over to a panel on the wall.

â€œYou can order up simple food and water here. Nothing fancy. Nothing human, either. But Iâ€™ll bet thereâ€™s something for you to eat. Weâ€™ll lock the doors, of course. Please, donâ€™t try and escape - neither of us need that hassle.â€

With that Maleek left the room, shooting a look of pity at Hoshi.

When she was alone, Hoshi surveyed the room. It was probably easily escapable, but she had no idea where she would go or what she would do if she left. She decided to stay put.

****

Trip was working in engineering when he got a sense Tâ€™Pol was in trouble. He quickly found his way to his private office. He sat down and closed his eyes, finding himself in white space. Tâ€™Pol stood there, looking serene.

_I thought you were in trouble._

_I am. Hoshi and I have been abducted by a group of Romulans, led by my half-brother._

_What? Where? Do you know where they are taking you?_

_No. We appear to be on a freighter. So far, there have been no threats against us. I believe the young man, the same one who gave us the dilithium, believes he has rescued me._

_Then whyâ€™d he take Hoshi?_

_Insurance. To make sure I wanted to be rescued. I donâ€™t know much about Romulan culture, but the young man seems mentally unbalanced. However, I do believe escape will be possible. Do not worry._

_You know better than to ask that of me._

In the white space, she embraced and kissed him passionately.

_Iâ€™ll be all right, Thyâ€™la. As soon as I determine where we are going, I will let you know. I love you._

_I love you._

With that, she disappeared from the white space.

Tâ€™Pol opened her eyes. Ston was shaking her.

â€œAre you all right?â€

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œI was just meditating. It is important for Vulcans to do so. I will ask you to allow me that.â€

Ston nodded.

â€œAll right, I will.â€


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

Rating: R to NC-17 for sex, violence, drugs and other stuff.  


* * *

Trip found himself standing on his favorite Florida beach on a warm, breezy summer night. There were more stars in the sky than Trip could count and the air smelled of salt, sand and seaweed and the sound of the waves crashing soothed his ears. The beach, which was kept secret by the locals and thus never overrun by tourists, and its fragile dunes had been all but destroyed by the Xindi attack. Or had it? It looked the same as it had when he was a teenager and he and his friends would cut school to spend the day in the surf. At night, theyâ€™d build a campfire and drink beer and talk about girls. More than a few times, Trip had brought a girl to this beach. Hell, heâ€™d lost his virginity on prom night, right here on this beach.

Speaking of which, he noticed the shadowy figure a girl sitting on a blanket and looking out toward the surf, her back to him. Not a girl, really, but a woman. She turned and he recognized his wifeâ€™s elfin face. How was it that she was here?

â€œThyâ€™la,â€ she whispered.

He approached her. He didnâ€™t remember quite why he was so glad to see her, but he was. He knelt next to her and gathered her petite, Vulcan form into his arms.

â€œAre you all right?â€ he asked.

â€œYes,â€ she said.

He kissed her on gently but passionately the the mouth, and she responded, opening her mouth to him. Her form seemed to fit just right in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around him and molded her body to his. She wore a bright yellow sundress - the kind that Florida girls wore. Very un-Vulcan, he thought as he slipped it off her body in between kisses. He gasped when he realized she wore nothing underneath. None of his high school girlfriends had ever done anything like that or kissed him the way she was kissing him. Her hands soon divested him of his Starfleet uniform. Why was he wearing that? It didnâ€™t matter. He was just so happy to be caressing her form and to feel her to the same to him. Her coppery scent mixed with the smell of the ocean soon he found himself inside her.

â€œGod, I love you,â€ he said.

â€œAnd I love you,â€ she said clearly, without hesitation. Strange, he thought, usually she needed to be pressed into saying it aloud. She only said it in her mind -

Trip opened his eyes and looked down at her, realizing where they were, but it was too late to stop. He continued to finesse her with his fingers and nibbled at her ear. He whispered to her in Vulcan and soon she came, punctuated by a series of gentle moans. He soon followed.

â€œIt feels so real,â€ he said.

â€œIt is real,â€ she said, â€œItâ€™s just in the mind, not the body. Although I imagine your body will have responded as if I were really there,â€ she said in teasing voice.

â€œGreat,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ll change the sheets before you come back - where are you? How are you?â€

Reality was starting to creep into the illusion.

â€œAs much as I enjoyed that, do you really think its appropriate given your situation?â€ he continued.

She reached up and placed a finger gently on his lips.

â€œI think it is very appropriate. I miss you, and your presence relaxes me and helps me focus.â€

â€œDo you know where they are taking you?â€

â€œIâ€™m not certain, but I believe we are headed to the mining colony. Ston told me we are not returning to Romulan space but we are going somewhere under the Empireâ€™s control,â€ she said.

â€œHas he hurt you? Or Hoshi?â€

â€œI havenâ€™t seen Lt. Sato since she was taken away yesterday. However, the captain of this vessel assures me she is safe and well-cared-for. He strikes me as truthful.â€

Trip sighed with relief. He brushed the side of her face with his hand. He knew she could survive this. She had been through worse scrapes, and he had to tell himself she would be okay.

â€œMalcolm found the security officer who was bribed so you could transport out of there,â€ replied Trip, â€œand heâ€™s meeting with Javon soon. Javon has agree to help find you.â€

â€œGratifying,â€ she said, â€œespecially since he aided Ston with information about me. Although, I donâ€™t believe Javon knew what my brother intended.â€

â€œHeâ€™s really your brother?â€

â€œYes, heâ€™s the youngest of my fatherâ€™s four sons. Apparently he feels disconnected from his family since the death of his mother, so he is attempting to create a new one with me. My father is ignorant of his actions.â€

Trip didnâ€™t like the sound of that.

â€œHe means me no harm,â€ she said.

Trip heard just enough hesitation in her voice to know that she was attempting to convince herself of that.

â€œShould I use the ring? Iâ€™ll contact him and he can send a warbird to pick up his psycho son. . .â€

â€œThat may yet be necessary,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut wait a few days. I believe the captain of this vessel did not wish to become involved in the kidnapping of two Starfleet officers. He may well be convinced to let us go.â€

Trip pulled her into a hug.

â€œIf one hair on your head is harmed. . .if one hair on Hoshiâ€™s head is harmed . . .so help me . . Iâ€™ll . . .â€

â€œRemain calm,â€ she said, â€œand tell the captain to head toward the mining colony as soon as possible. It is the most logical course, given my reasonable certainty that is where we are headed.â€

He hugged her tight.

â€œDonâ€™t go yet,â€ he said.

â€œYou are needed to assist in our rescue,â€ she said, â€œI will return if I have any new information. You do the same. I love you.â€

Trip leaned back and entwined his fingers in hers in what was a Vulcan gesture of intimacy. He send his love back to her that way before she disappeared.

****

Tâ€™Pol awoke in her room on the freighter and immediately sensed she was being watched. The room was sparse but comfortable with a port side window and a private bathroom. She had even found clothes in the closet, which was a thoughtful touch. Her brother may have been a lunatic, but at least he wasnâ€™t going to make her wear the same uniform every day.

She turned around to find him standing in the doorway.

â€œHave you been there long, brother?â€ she asked.

â€œJust a few minutes,â€ he said, â€œyou were moaning in your sleep. I didnâ€™t want you to be scared.â€

â€œI appreciate that,â€ she replied without emotion.

â€œBreakfast is ready,â€ he said, â€œYou can come in your nightclothes so it wonâ€™t get cold.â€

â€œWill Lt. Sato be joining us? I am eager to see that she is well,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Ston thought about that for a moment.

â€œI can arrange that,â€ he said.

â€œThat would be most gracious of you,â€ she said.

Ston reached out his hand to her, clearly wanting to her to take it.

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ she said, â€œbut Vulcans do not hold hands with people they have just met, even family. Perhaps in time. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol lowered her eyes in feigned subservience.

â€œI saw you hold the humanâ€™s hand,â€ said Ston, â€œwhen you were on the station. You did it outside the cafe.â€

â€œHe is my mate,â€ she said, â€œIt is appropriate that we hold hands.â€

Ston squinted at this but said nothing. He gestured for her to follow him, which she did.

He led her down a long hall to a dining room about the size of the Captainâ€™s mess. The were no crew in the hall and all the doors were closed.

She saw the table had been set and a spread of food displayed. It was mostly meat, something which made her vaguely nauseous, but there was Plomeek soup. She sat down at the table.

â€œHelp yourself,â€ said Ston as he reached for what appeared to be the comm system. â€œMaleek, bring the human woman to breakfast. You can join us, too.â€

Ston flipped the button. Tâ€™Pol helped herself to the soup and some tea.

â€œIâ€™m glad there are four chairs,â€ said Ston.

Hoshi and Maleek arrived a few minutes later, and Tâ€™Pol was relieved to see she looked unharmed. She also appeared calm and collected, for a human. Hoshi had been through worse captivity than this, and she was more than capable of keeping herself emotionally together.

â€œGood morning, Lt.â€

â€œGood morning, Commander.â€

Tâ€™Pol thought she saw a flicker of reaction from the captain - the one called Maleek - at the sound of their ranks.

â€œHave you been treated well?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol casually.

â€œAs well as could be expected, except for being held captive of course,â€ replied Hoshi smoothly.

Their eyes locked, and they both understood the necessity of playing along. Soon, all four people sat around the table, enjoying the breakfast.

â€œSo,â€ said Hoshi, finally breaking the awkward silence, â€œit looks to me like Vulcans and Romulans are an awful lot alike.â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped her soup.

â€œIt is not widely known, but Vulcans and Romulans are the same race,â€ said Tâ€™Pol casually.

â€œItâ€™s no secret in the Empire,â€ said Maleek, turning to Hoshi, â€œbut weâ€™ve kept it quiet outside of our borders. My understanding is that until recently, very few Vulcans knew the truth. Several thousand years ago, a group of Vulcans left because they rejected the teachings of Surak. They found their way to Romulus and founded the empire.â€

Hoshiâ€™s eyes widened. She knew this was huge news, and she guessed that Tâ€™Pol already knew. No wonder Starfleet had been so secretive about the Romulans over the last year, she thought. This could wreck the coalition. Thinking back, she also felt stupid for not recognizing that Romulan and Vulcan had the same root language. It was obvious, now that she thought about it.

Ston seemed frustrated by this conversation. He huffed a little and slammed his cup down. He looked over and noticed that Hoshi appeared to be finished with her meal.

â€œYou can take her back to her room now, Maleek,â€ said Ston.

â€œWill I be able to see her later?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIf you like,â€ said Ston, exasperated.

Tâ€™Pol nodded at Hoshi, and Maleek led her out of the room.

â€œThank you for letting me see her, brother,â€ said Tâ€™Pol softly.

â€œYouâ€™re welcome,â€ he said.

Ston scooted his chair to be closer to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIâ€™m sorry I had to kidnap you, but it was the only way I could think of to spend time with you.â€

Tâ€™Pol did not react for a moment.

â€œYou could have introduced yourself on the station. I would have been happy to spend time with you,â€ she lied, thankful for all the practice at play acting that she had gotten since living among humans.

â€œWould you have? See, I couldnâ€™t be sure. I thought maybe you were under some mind control by the humans. . .that you were not able to think clearly . . .â€

â€œThey do not control me. I make my own choices,â€ she said.

Ston didnâ€™t like that. He grabbed her wrist.

â€œThen why did you mate with a human? Why would you do that?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked at him, for the first time actually scared of him.

â€œI wanted to,â€ she said simply, unable to think of a lie that would please her brother and unwilling to deflect blame to her husband.

â€œIt doesnâ€™t make sense,â€ he said, â€œeven Father said so.â€

â€œNot everything makes sense,â€ she replied softy, â€œSo father is disappointed in me?â€

Ston nodded.

â€œJoin the club. Heâ€™s not easy to please. He really only likes Enme. Thatâ€™s my oldest brother. Heâ€™s not much younger than you. Maybe by six or seven years.â€

â€œWhat is he like?â€

Ston shrugged.

â€œHeâ€™s in the military - went to the academy and everything. He leads campaigns on the far side of the empire. Father likes that. It brings our house honor.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. She needed more information.

â€œWell,â€ she said gently removing herself from his grip, â€œwhy donâ€™t you tell me about yourself?â€

****

Trip sat in Archerâ€™s ready room drinking a big glass of bourbon, even though it wasnâ€™t yet noon.

â€œSo, how are you so sure sheâ€™s all right? Hoshi too?â€

Trip sighed.

â€œItâ€™s a Vulcan thing. They are telepaths, and they can communicate with their mates over long distances.â€

Archer shook his head. Vulcans would keep something like that quiet.

â€œAnd it works with you two? Even though you are human?â€

â€œYup,â€ said Trip as he finished his glass and poured another.

â€œWell, thatâ€™s handy. Especially in this situation,â€ said Archer.

Trip started on his new glass of bourbon, and Archer was worried. Trip rarely outdrank him these days.

â€œFor example, I just got a real sense that sheâ€™s creeped out by something that Romulan kid did to her. . .sheâ€™s okay, but sheâ€™s not happy to be there and I canâ€™t do a damn thing to help her. . .â€

â€œWeâ€™ll pick up Malcolm in a couple of hours and head off to the mining colony. Kill two birds with one stone. . .rescuing our people will be top priority, of course.â€

â€œI know, Captain,â€ said Trip

To hell with being on duty, thought Jon, and he poured himself another glass.

â€œWeâ€™ve been through worse than this,â€ said Jon, â€œand sheâ€™ll be okay. Iâ€™m sure of it.â€

Trip took a deep breath. He wanted to be sure as well.

Jon poured himself a generous second glass to match Tripâ€™s.â€

â€œMake sure you sober up before we reach the mining colony,â€ said the captain, â€œThatâ€™s all I ask.â€

â€œYou do the same,â€ said Trip.

****

Malcolm sat across from the Vulcan intelligence officer called Javon, who was calmly sipping Vulcan tea in the cafe of the Vulcan section of the station.

â€œMy ship docks in less than two hours,â€ said Malcolm, â€œSo, I would appreciate any help that you can give me.â€

Javon looked him straight in the eye. Malcolm was grateful the man had agreed to meet with him, but he had been angry about how long heâ€™d had to wait to see him.

â€œThis incident has nothing to do with the tensions between the Empire and this quadrant of space,â€ said Javon directly.

Malcolm sipped his Vulcan tea. It was hardly a good China Black, but he had come to appreciate the care with which Vulcans brewed their tea. Only the British did better.

â€œHow do you know? And assuming that is true, what does it have to do with?â€

â€œSome of the crew of the freighter that took your officers lack the Vulcan laconic nature. They gossiped around the station.â€

Malcolm waited patiently for Javon to continue. He did.

â€œThe ship was hired by a patrician Romulan named Ston. He believes himself to be your Commander Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother. The crew believed they were simply getting themselves involved with a brother-sister reunion. None of them knew it would become espionage or kidnapping.â€

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œSo why didnâ€™t they rebel? If only one civilian is involved. . .â€

Javon raised his hand.

â€œRomulan society doesnâ€™t work that way. This Ston is of the very highest caste. They are not in a position to alienate him. For all they know, his actions have the blessing of his family. I donâ€™t believe that to be the case, however. I have a contact at the mining colony, and apparently a fixer of some kind has arrived there.â€

Malcolm exhaled. He was doing his damnedest not to think of Hoshi in a personal way. The best he could do for her was stay focused on her rescue.

â€œWhatâ€™s this fixer going to do?â€ asked Malcolm.

â€œUnknown,â€ said Javon, â€œHowever, the Romulans are not stupid. They know that the death of two Starfleet officers isnâ€™t in their interest right now.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œCan you stay in communication with us? If you hear anything at all from your contact, will you let us know?â€

Javon finished his tea.

â€œYes,â€ he said.

****

Maleek and Hoshi stood in the observation room of the freighter. Maleek spoke in a whisper.

â€œStay calm,â€ he said, â€œYouâ€™re to be released once we get to the mining colony.â€

Hoshi searched the young Romulanâ€™s face for deception. She saw none, nor had she heard it in the cadence of his speech.

â€œWhat is going on?â€

â€œCommander Tâ€™Pol is his half sister,â€ said Maleek, â€œand he thinks heâ€™s rescued her from the clutches of you humans. Heâ€™s convinced himself that Tâ€™Pol has been brainwashed.â€

Hoshi digested this news. She didnâ€™t even want to ask how this could be, but she did have great sympathy for her colleague.

â€œHereâ€™s the deal, though,â€ continued Maleek, â€œWhen Ston gave her that dilithuium, he committed treason. That changed everything. The Empire is furious. Weâ€™ve been told to play along until we get to the mining colony. It may be hard for you to understand, but weâ€™ve got to follow his orders until we get there.â€

Hoshi nodded.

â€œI promise Iâ€™ll protect you,â€ said Maleek, who wasnâ€™t sure why it was so important to him that this human, this inferior human, understand that he was honorable.

â€œI thought the Romulans were all about intimidation,â€ said Hoshi.

Maleek smiled.

â€œWe do that well, but we have honor,â€ said Maleek, â€œand weâ€™re not supposed to be in the kidnapping business.â€

â€œRight now,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™m more worried for Tâ€™Pol than I am for myself.â€

****

Several hours later, Tâ€™Pol found herself wanting to nod off. She had been listening to her brother talk on and on about his mother, their father and their brothers. He told her about pets he had, and school projects that he was awarded prizes for. He told her about his favorite foods and his favorite music. Tâ€™Pol had been feigning interest the whole time, but her stamina was fading.

â€œYouâ€™re so beautiful,â€ said Ston, â€œmore beautiful than your pictures.â€

He reached up and touched her face. Tâ€™Pol used all her Vulcan control to not cringe.

â€œIâ€™m so glad I found you,â€ he said, laying his head on her shoulder.

Perhaps it was the fatigue or perhaps it was the eeriness of his touch, but Tâ€™Pol instinctively reached up and gave him a nerve pinch.

Ston collapsed on the floor.

Knowing he would be unconscious for a few hours, she got up and left the room, closing the door behind her. She thought for a minute of holding him hostage, but that seemed too risky.

Instead, she made her way down the hallway. The freighter was of Vulcan design, so she knew its general outline. She decided it would be best to find a console so she could confirm their position.

She found one, and determined that they would very soon be at the mining colony. The ship was faster than it appeared.

Tâ€™Pol looked up, and she saw a member of the crew standing there. She prepared herself for capture, but the young man simply walked on as if she had every right to be there. What she didnâ€™t understand was that she, as the acknowledged older child of the ProConsul, held more sway than her captor. The crew would not dare touch her. This was why Ston had brought along Hoshi.

Not knowing what else to do, and unwilling to find and escape pod without Hoshi, Tâ€™Pol headed back to her room. Before she did so, she stopped yet another crew member in the hall.

â€œMy brother has fainted,â€ she said, â€œHe is in the dining room. Please attend to him.â€

The young woman nodded and headed in that direction, and soon Maleek appeared, with Hoshi at his side.

â€œSton has fainted,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Maleek knew she was lying, but he didnâ€™t care.

â€œI was just telling Hoshi that weâ€™ll release you once we get to the colony. Thereâ€™s a man there to take Ston into custody. He may not even wake up before we arrive.â€

Tâ€™Pol felt relief wash over her. It wasnâ€™t complete, but she felt better.

****

Three hours later, the freighter landed at the mining colony. Ston had not yet awakened, and Maleek was happy to escort his two guests onto the landing pad. The director of the colony greeted them formally, as if they were state guests. Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol, who had started to feel less like victims, both surveyed their surroundings. This would prove to be a valuable intelligence-gathering opportunity.

Unfortunately, no one in Maleekâ€™s crew had had the courage to restrain the unconscious Ston. So, he appeared in the shipâ€™s doorway holding what appeared to be a particle weapon.

Maleekâ€™s eyeâ€™s widened in fear. Tâ€™Pol stepped in front of Hoshi.

â€œIâ€™m sorry, brother,â€ she said clearly, â€œYou passed out. I had one of the crew attend to you.â€

â€œYouâ€™re lying,â€ said Ston, â€œWhy are you lying?â€

His hands were shaking as he approached her. Tâ€™Pol suppressed her fear. Ston was inexperienced with weapons, which was far more dangerous in a situation like this than had he been experienced.

Tâ€™Polâ€™s Vulcan ears heard footsteps behind her, but she was too focused on Ston to turn and look. The footsteps drew closer and closer and finally walked around her. She saw the back of a Romulan male, tall and youngish, as he approached Ston. He stood between her and the disruptor. She noticed that the the two men looked much alike. Hoshi, for her part, noticed that all three siblings looked alike.

Suddenly, the stranger fired a weapon and Ston collapsed to the ground. He screamed in pain and a patch green blood appeared on his shoulder.

The Romulan stepped over to Ston and kicked his disruptor out of the way. He then gestured to some men, who came with a stretcher.

â€œSometimes I wish Romulans bothered to have stun weapons,â€ said Enme, â€œIt would be less messy in a situation such as this.â€

Once it was clear that Ston was strapped to the gurney and on his way to the medical facility, Enme turned to the new arrivals.

â€œMaleek,â€ he said nodded, â€œYour assistance to our family is duly noted and appreciated. I give you regards from my father. Please take your ship and go, and your part in all of this will be overlooked.â€

Maleek shot a look at Hoshi.

â€œIt was a pleasure,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m sorry weâ€™ll be fighting on different sides.â€

With that, Maleek headed off to his ship, and the door quickly closed behind him.

â€œAnd here I thought that my brother couldnâ€™t annoy anyone more than he could annoy me,â€ said Enme to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œBut then I learned of you,â€ he continued.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

Rating: This Chapter is tame. Easily PG-13. Just lots of boozing and some violence.  


* * *

Enme approached Hoshi and held out his hand.

â€œHello, my name is Commander Enme.â€

Hoshi looked puzzled and glanced at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIâ€™m sorry,â€ said Enme, â€œI thought this is how humans greeted each other. If Iâ€™ve been misinformed. . .â€

Hoshi lifted her hand and shook the Romulanâ€™s hand.

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™m just surprised. My name is Lt. Sato. Hoshi Sato.â€

â€œWell,â€ said Enme, â€œallow me to extend my apologies on behalf of the Romulan Star Empire for any unpleasantness caused by your abduction, which was not sanctioned by the military, the government or the young manâ€™s family.â€

Hoshi looked into the manâ€™s eyes. They werenâ€™t honey-green like Tâ€™Polâ€™s but grey. Still, she could see that they were related. The set of the eyes, the shape of the nose. . .the line of the jaw. . .these two were related.

â€œYouâ€™ll be staying with me at my residence. Iâ€™m afraid its rather spartan, and you two will be bunking together, but itâ€™s the best I can do. We canâ€™t have two Starfleet officers staying among the miners.â€

â€œWe need to contact our ship,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œThat will be taken care through channels, I assure you,â€ said Enme, â€œWeâ€™re currently working out a way to return you to your ship without compromising the security of this facility or inadvertently blowing Enterprise out the sky.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

â€œThatâ€™s gracious of you,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œI agree,â€ said Enme, â€œNow, I have arranged a midday meal for you, but before that is served, I thought Lt. Sato might be interested in accessing our Romulan language and literature database. My understanding is that Starfleetâ€™s knowledge of our beautiful language is rudimentary at best.â€

Hoshi blinked and looked over at Tâ€™Pol for permission. Her commanding officer nodded.

â€œThank you, I would like that,â€ said Hoshi.

Enme gestured to the shadows and a very eerie vampire-like alien emerged.

â€œFollow him,â€ said Enme, â€œand heâ€™ll see to it that you have all the access you need.â€

â€œIâ€™ll see you later, Lt,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, reassuringly.

Hoshi nodded and followed the Reman through a doorway, thinking she was putting a tremendous lot of faith in these Romulans.

â€œSo,â€ said Tâ€™Pol to her brother, â€œDid our father send you to rescue me?â€

Enme laughed.

â€œNo,â€ he replied, â€œHe sent me to rescue Ston. Our father doesnâ€™t think you needed rescue.â€

â€œSton is an unbalanced young man,â€ she replied cooly.

â€œYou are damn right he is. We didnâ€™t know how much until this incident, and to be honest I donâ€™t know what will become of him. His little stunt with the dilithium might make him beyond even our fatherâ€™s help.â€

Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t respond.

â€œWeâ€™ll make sure he never comes near you again,â€ said Enme, â€œThat is something I can promise.â€

****

Malcolm paced up and down the armory, examining the data about the minefield. They would be there within 48 hours and he was the only one who could get the sensors ready. Trip, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor in the corner and Malcolm could smell the bourbon from where he stood at the console. He had returned to the ship to find the chief engineer three sheets to the wind, something that was understandable but not at all helpful.

â€œIâ€™m sobering up,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™m sorry Malcolm. You know this isnâ€™t like me.â€

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œitâ€™s not often your wife gets snatched by a crazy Romulan. Iâ€™ll give you a pass. Iâ€™m not so sure the captain would.â€

Trip snorted at that.

â€œIt was his idea,â€ said Trip.

Malcolm exhaled. That wasnâ€™t as much as a surprise as it should have been.

â€œHe knew we wouldnâ€™t be able to do anything to help them for a few hours,â€ said Trip, his eyes closed, â€œSo we decided to kill some pain while waited.â€

â€œIâ€™m not your therapist or your CO,â€ said Malcolm, who knew that the hardest part of any mission in deep space were the waiting hours.

â€œNah,â€ said Trip, â€œYouâ€™re my friend, though. Thanks for working so hard on this.â€

Malcolm walked over to where Trip sat and stood next to him, arms folded.

â€œYou know I care about both of them like they are - family,â€ said Malcolm, contemplating how much terror Trip must be feeling. He had only just begun to connect with Hoshi, and he was nearly overwhelmed with fear for her. Trip and Tâ€™Pol were married, had had a child together and might even be some how mentally linked together. Their bond was far stronger. It wasnâ€™t surprising that Trip found himself unable to deal with the empty hours of waiting.

â€œWhy donâ€™t we go to the mess hall and get you some coffee?â€ asked Malcolm as he extended a hand to Trip.

Trip let his friend pull him up to a standing position and found that he wasnâ€™t as wobbly as he had been even a half hour earlier. The last time Trip had remembered drinking that much in one sitting was in the very early days of the mission to the Expanse. Lizzieâ€™s death combined with hours and hours of idle time had not been a good combination.

â€œMaybe Phlox can give me something for the hangover,â€ said Trip.

****

What Romulans called â€œteaâ€ and what Vulcans called tea proved to be very different. Both beverages worked on the same basic principle - heating leaves in water - but what Tâ€™Pol sipped while seated across from her brother would be highly unpalatable to most Vulcans. Strong spices had clearly been added to the leaves and debris from the brewing remained floating in the liquid.

â€œYouâ€™re not supposed to consume the leaves and spices,â€ said Emne, when Tâ€™Pol had reacted to the bitterness of their taste her mouth.

They were sitting at a small table in Enmeâ€™s residence, which was the VIP guest house for the mining colony. The window overlooked some austere mountains.

â€œWe terraformed this place for a year before beginning the mining operations,â€ said Enme, â€œSome thought mining should begin before the atmospheric processing began, using domes and EV suits. However, the initial atmospheric processing can ignite some of the mining byproducts. So, patience was in order, and Romulans are not nearly as patient as you Vulcans.â€

Tâ€™Pol continued to ponder the complex flavors of her tea. It was stronger and spicier than the spiciest human tea she had ever tasted. Romulans certainly were different from Vulcans, despite their shared physiology.

â€œMay I ask you a question?â€ said Enme.

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œDo really suppress all your emotions?â€

â€œYes,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œIt merely requires a disciplined mind."

â€œYet,â€ continued Enme, â€œVulcans have relationships. You have children. You marry.â€

â€œWe have affection for our families,â€ she replied.

â€œBut you married an off worlder. . .how does that work?â€

â€œVery well.â€

Enme laughed. Vulcans were a strange and fascinating people, though he was very grateful that he had not been born among them.

â€œI wonder how Vulcans will react to a different way of life,â€ said Enme, more to himself that to his sister. Father had said over and over that she would have made a magnificent Romulan, but Enme wasnâ€™t so sure about the rest of her people.

â€œThey donâ€™t plan to reject logic,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Enme looked at her. Did she really not know that unification was the plan? Did she not understand the Empire wanted to bring its distant cousins into the fold and show them a better way of life? He was a solider, not a spy, but he assumed that someone in Tâ€™Polâ€™s position would understand the truth.

â€œThat Vulcan stubbornness might cause unnecessary pain,â€ said Enme.

â€œSo might Romulan ambition,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol.

Enme smiled. She had a point. It was one thing to conquer inferior races, as was Romulan habit. He wondered if his people were really ready to face the Vulcans, who while culturally different were their intellectual and physical equals.

â€œIf things do go our way,â€ said Enme, â€œyou might be in a position to help your people adjust. Youâ€™ll have a high position in the Empire thanks to your paternal bloodline. Vulcan or not.â€

Enme was amazed. Her face showed no reaction, one way or another. He had no idea what she was thinking. Vulcans were different.

â€œI am Vulcan,â€ said Tâ€™Pol simply, â€œno political circumstances will ever change that.â€

Enme figured it was best not to press the issue, and suddenly recognized that he had found a sibling that he actually liked, and they would be fighting on opposite sides of a war. It was an unpleasant thought. Fate was cruel.

Across the table, Tâ€™Pol assessed her newly found brother. He clearly wasnâ€™t a lunatic like Ston. He was simply a Romulan and different from her. He looked Vulcan in his features and coloring, but he smiled, gestured and laughed more like - a human. On the other hand, Romulans lacked the idealism and openness of humans - not to mention their compassion. She found herself very grateful that she had not been taken to Romulus by her father.

****

Archer stared the unusual-looking Vulcan on his viewscreen.

â€œIâ€™m the Captain of this ship,â€ said Archer, â€œand Commander Tuckerâ€™s commanding officer. Anything you have to say to him, you can say to me.â€

Javon did not react.

â€œI believe that, Captain. However, I told the Romulans that I would contact Commander Tâ€™Polâ€™s husband, not her Captain. They have very strict protocols, and I agreed to abide by them. In their eyes, family supersedes military rank under these circumstances. Please respect that.â€

Archer sucked in his breath and paced.

â€œWell, Starfleet sees it different. . .â€

â€œCaptain Archer,â€ said Javon, â€œif the Romulans viewed your officers as military prisoners, you would never see them again. Since they view this incident as a family matter, they intend to return them.â€

Archer froze.

â€œUnderstood,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ll patch you through to Commander Tucker.â€

Archer felt the beginnings of a massive headache, and it wasnâ€™t from navigating the special nuances of Romulan culture.

****

â€œSo, they are both fine,â€ said Malcolm, relieved. He also hoped to show equal relief for both his colleagues, rather than any special concern for Hoshi. It was far too soon to reveal their personal relationship.

The captain, Trip and Malcolm were in the ready room. Trip was also relieved to learn this news from Javon, but he remained concerned because Tâ€™Pol had not found a way to let him know. Getting to white space over light years required a great deal of concentration, so Trip hoped that would explain her absence from his mind.

â€œYes,â€ said Trip, â€œIt seems they were rescued from their abductors this morning.â€

â€œBy Romulans,â€ said Malcolm, â€œWhatâ€™s the old expression? Out of the frying pan into the fire.â€

â€œJavon thinks they will release them to us,â€ said Trip, â€œbut he advises that we steer clear of the minefield until we hear from them, through him or another channel. They might decide to contact us directly. He says they can be unpredictable.â€

Archer shook his head. Under normal circumstances, the lives of two crew members would absolutely be the priority. Unfortunately, these were arguably wartime conditions. Wartime conditions meant the intelligence they could gather about the mine should take priority.

In his mind, Jon resolved not to consult Starfleet on the matter. Besides, he hoped that Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol would be able to provide more than enough intelligence.

â€œWeâ€™ll steer as clear as we can from the mines,â€ said Jon, until we hear from them.

Trip thought of bringing up the bond and the fact that he could theoretically contact Tâ€™Pol. He planned to try as soon as this damn meeting was over, but he didnâ€™t want to fail and make an ass of himself. First, he resolved to find out if he could connect with her again.

â€œMore waiting,â€ said the Captain, â€œjust what we need.â€

****

Hoshi Sato looked around at a magnificently decadent spread of food. Romulans, she recognized, were not vegetarians like their cousins. The last time sheâ€™d seen such a consumable assortment of dead animals was aboard the Klingon ship. There were a few recognizably vegetarian dishes, some may have even been of Vulcan origin.

Tâ€™Polâ€™s non-crazy brother was at her side, pointing out the origins of each dish. No wonder they are disinclined to make contact, thought Hoshi, once you actually get in the room with one of them, they donâ€™t shut up about anything.

Enme was more than a head taller than she, and he was clearly in magnificent shape. Although she knew cultures varied across systems - even across planets - she recognized something very aristocratic in the young Romulan officer. His manners were impeccable, and he carried himself with grace.

She glanced over at Tâ€™Pol, who was her usual emotion-less self. No sign that being kidnapped or trapped on a Romulan mining colony with her long-lost brothers was at all unusual.

â€œSo,â€ said Enme, â€œI assume you, unlike my sister, are more adventurous with your palate. Try the Reman pigeon. Itâ€™s delectable.â€

Hoshi reached out and grabbed a helping of the interesting poultry. She glanced around for signs of the Remans. She had attempted to converse with the one who had guided her to the library about their language, but he had only spoken to her in Romulan. Reman was forbidden, he said.

She looked over at Enme, who shot her a flirtatious look. She reminded herself that he came from an aggressive planet that thought nothing of enslaving races they deemed weak or inferior.

The dining table here was low to the ground, and Tâ€™Pol had already seated herself on one of the pillows. It was a little like a traditional Japanese table, though there was no hole for oneâ€™s legs. Instead, you were supposed to sit cross-legged or lounge sideways, propped up on one of the pillows.

â€œWeâ€™re working on getting a transmission to your ship,â€ said Enme, â€œbut theyâ€™ve left the space station. We havenâ€™t got their frequency.â€

â€œIâ€™m the comm officer,â€ said Hoshi as she sat cross-legged on one of the pillows, â€œI can give you that.â€

â€œThat may yet be necessary,â€ said Enme.

Hoshi wondered for what reason they wouldnâ€™t accept any help from her or Tâ€™Pol. It might be a cultural thing. Maybe Romulans didnâ€™t accept help from their inferiors. A Remen appeared out of the kitchen door with a bottle of Romulan Ale. Enme gestured at their glasses, and soon the alien filled their glasses.

â€œHave you ever tasted Romulan Ale, Lt Sato?â€ asked Emne.

â€œNo,â€ said Hoshi, examining the shimmering blue liquid in her glass.

â€œItâ€™s one of our civilizationâ€™s crowning achievements,â€ said Enme as he lifted his glass.

Hoshi lifted her glass and gestured in a toast.

Enme looked at her, puzzled.

â€œItâ€™s a human custom, called a toast. One salutes, makes a proclamation honoring either a person or event and then the parties clink their glasses together before drinking. There are variations, but thatâ€™s the basic premise.â€

Enme smiled with delight. He held aloft his glass.

â€œI salute my first contact with Vulcans and Humans.â€

Hoshi raised her glass, and she was surprised to see Tâ€™Pol do the same. They clinked them together.

â€œI am quite certain that I couldnâ€™t have found more beautiful examples of your respective races,â€ continued Enme before sipping.

Hoshi sipped.

â€œThank you,â€ she said, â€œand thank you for rescuing us.â€

â€œI canâ€™t say it was my pleasure, since Iâ€™m still furious at my brother. However, I will say that meeting you has been an upside of this assignment.â€

He looked her straight in the eye and turned up the charm quotient.

Just because itâ€™s obvious, thought Hoshi, doesnâ€™t mean itâ€™s not effective.

Hoshi looked over at her commanding officer and saw that her face was still the usual Vulcan mask. She did, however, sip on her glass of Romulan Ale.

â€œSo, did you read any interesting Romulan literature in our database? The Epic of Grakon is one of my favorites.â€

Hoshi nodded.

â€œI read that one. Youâ€™re meters are different from Vulcan. . .â€

The two continued to converse for awhile, and then Tâ€™Pol stood up.

â€œForgive me,â€ she said, â€œbut I must use the facilities.â€

Enme gestured to a corridor and continued his conversation with Hoshi.

****

The Romulan Ale had a bit of an effect on Tâ€™Pol and not an unpleasant one. She wasnâ€™t drunk but she felt a slight bit of euphoria. Certainly, she was happier than she should have been under her current circumstances.

In the small bathroom, she closed her eyes and concentrated. It would take Trip a few moments to connect with her, especially if he wasnâ€™t alone.

Soon, she was in white space. He appeared.

Where have you been? Are you all right? We got word from Javon this morning that youâ€™d been rescued but when I didnâ€™t hear from you. . â€œ

Hoshi and I are both fine. They plan on releasing us to you, and they seem honest in their intent.

Weâ€™re on our way to the mining colony. Thatâ€™s where you are?

Yes. They are currently making plans for a transfer. However, they donâ€™t wish you anywhere near the minefield.

Understood. We were planning on staying away, at least for now.

He approached her and pulled her into a hug. She responded in kind.

Hey, are you okay? You seem kinda woozy.

Romulan Ale.

Trip smiled. Romulans did treat their prisoners well, at least in his experience.

I must return to the table. I donâ€™t wish for our hosts to know I can communicate with you this way. I will see you soon. Hopefully in person.

With that, she was gone. Trip opened his eyes in his quarters, feeling only slightly less alone that he had been.

****

Later that afternoon, Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol found themselves alone in the plush guesthouse, besides the Reman servants. Both were wearing fine Romulan style robes and relaxing on chaises in the main living room. Hoshi was working on her third glass of Romulan Ale in as many hours. Tâ€™Pol had explained to Hoshi that she had been in communication with Trip. Although it wasnâ€™t a total shock, the bond was fascinating to Hoshi. She was also amazed that Tâ€™Pol had admitted its existence, even under their circumstances.

â€œDid Trip say how Malcolm was doing?â€ asked Hoshi.

Tâ€™Pol lifted her head to look at her colleague.

â€œNo.â€

Hoshi sighed.

â€œMay I ask you a personal question, Commander?â€ said Hoshi.

â€œYou may ask. I canâ€™t promise Iâ€™ll answer.â€

â€œWhat was it like for you and Trip when you first - you know - started to be more than friends. Things were crazy in the Expanse and both of you were in constant danger - it must have added to the stress of things. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol lifted an eyebrow. She was astute enough to realize something must be going on between officers Sato and Reed.

â€œIt was the stress of the Expanse that brought us together,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œwithout it, I doubt we ever would have embarked on such an unconventional relationship.â€

Hoshi took another sip.

â€œYou guys werenâ€™t attracted before that?â€

â€œWe were attracted. We just had the self control not to act upon it. However, I do not regret the events of the Expanse. They have enhanced my life a great deal.â€

Hoshi leaned over.

â€œI know it is none of my business, but when exactly did you two become more than friends. There were lots of rumors. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol suppressed her annoyance. Hoshiâ€™s prying was typically human in that she was no doubt seeking to analog her relationship with Lt. Commander Reed to Tâ€™Polâ€™s relationship with her husband.

â€œWe became sexually involved around the time we had the sphere builder aboard the ship,â€ said Tâ€™Pol in a clipped tone, â€œHowever, we had developed strong feelings for one another before that. Vulcans often wait years before engaging in sexual relations with their mates, even after marriage. We can develop strong attachments to our mates without a physical expression of it. . .â€

â€œSo you were in love with Trip before that?â€

â€œIn a manner of speaking,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, not liking to think of some of the traumas that had occurred back then.

â€œI suppose it makes sense,â€ said Hoshi, â€œYou work closely with someone over the years. Thereâ€™s a spark but you ignore it because you donâ€™t want things to get weird - then something happens and the spark becomes an explosion and then. . .â€

Tâ€™Polâ€™s face remained a mask.

â€œIâ€™m fond of Lt. Commander Reed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œHeâ€™s a good officer. He would make a fine mate for any human woman.â€

Hoshi thought about this. Vulcans could sometimes see the world so simply.

â€œI suppose. Whatever problems we face would be small compared to what you and Trip went through, and you two are still together.â€

Tâ€™Pol was silent.

â€œIâ€™m really happy for you two, by the way,â€ continued Hoshi, â€œI know things must have been hellish for you last year."

Tâ€™Pol took a deep breath. It was not a Vulcan custom to express such sympathy or admiration or happiness, but she accepted it in the spirit in which it was given.

â€œVulcan mates bind themselves together in grief rather than allowing themselves to be torn apart,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI did not believe that Trip would understand that at first, but he did.â€

â€œThatâ€™s really nice,â€ said Hoshi softly.

â€œYes,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI hope Malcolm isnâ€™t too worried about me,â€ said Hoshi.


	11. Chapter 11

The one doctor on the Romulan mining colony looked down at her young patient with pity. She knew little of the reasons he had been shot by his brother, but family squabbles among the patricians often turned violent. It wasnâ€™t for her to judge her patients, only treat them and give them comfort. He was quite unconscious, and so she had removed his restraints in order to better treat him.

They boyâ€™s wound was healing well. He had remarkable physical resilience given that his arm had nearly been shot off by a particle weapon.

She dabbed his head with a damp cloth.

â€œIâ€™m sure everything will be fine,â€ she said softly.

She turned to read one of her scanners and before she really knew what was happening, she collapsed to the floor.

â€œYou are right,â€ said Ston, â€œEverything is going to be fine.â€

****

Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol both dressed in their Starfleet uniforms that morning, in preparation for what they hoped would be their release.

â€œAs interesting as yesterday was,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™m glad it's over, and remind me never to drink Romulan Ale again. I feel awful.â€

â€œI can join you in that resolution,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand I will add that I hope I will never have the opportunity to taste it again.â€

Hoshi walked to the window and looked at the desolate landscape that shimmered and glowed in the morning sun.

â€œItâ€™s strange,â€ she said, â€œTâ€™Pol, do you see the sky glowing?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked out the window.

â€œNo,â€ she said.

â€œI think Iâ€™m seeing dilithium dust in the atmosphere,â€ said Hoshi, â€œItâ€™s probably kicked up by the mining operation. Malcolm said he saw the dilithium glow in the lab.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œHe believes the Andorian chemical you two ingested widened the light spectrum of your eyes,â€ said Tâ€™Pol somewhat skeptically.

Hoshi sighed.

â€œIsn't it dangerous? The dilithium, I mean. We probably shouldnâ€™t be ingesting it, right?â€

Hoshi had firmly resolved to be more careful about what substances she ingested.

There was a furious knock on the door, odd since their stay had been somewhat serene.

Tâ€™Pol opened the door to see Enme, dressed in his Romulan uniform and looking frantic.

â€œWe must get to the basement bomb shelter immediately,â€ he stated firmly.

Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol exchanged glances and followed Enme out the door and down the main stairs and into the back portion of the house. They quickly made their way through the kitchen and down a narrow set of stairs to a vault-like door.

The three of them went through and found themselves in the shelter.

Enme quickly sealed the door behind them. Tâ€™Pol noticed two Remans were also in the shelter - sitting quietly in a corner.

â€œMy brother has escaped,â€ said Enme, â€œThe moronic doctor on this godforsaken rock decided he didnâ€™t need his restraints. He knocked her over the head and made his way to my ship.â€

â€œHe should be easy enough to stop,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, thinking that the boy would be no match for experienced Romulan guards.

â€œItâ€™s not him that is the concern. If he takes off in my ship, and he might, the exhaust will ignite the atmosphere - blowing us all to hell.â€

Hoshiâ€™s mouth dropped open.

â€œLike the Paraagan Colony?â€

Enme didnâ€™t recognize the reference, but Tâ€™Pol remembered.

â€œDoes he not know of the danger?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Enme, â€œMy ship is a military prototype actually powered by dilithium. A normal transport wouldnâ€™t generate enough heat for ignition.â€

Tâ€™Pol sat down on a bench.

â€œYou believe weâ€™ll be safe in this shelter?â€

â€œIt was built to withstand everything and anything an enemy might throw at this colony. So, Iâ€™d say thereâ€™s a good chance.â€

Enme ran to a viewscreen in the corner of the shelter. He tapped some information into it.

â€œCanâ€™t anything ever go smoothly?â€ said Hoshi as she sat down next to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWhat do we do now?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWe wait for about ten minutes,â€ said Enme.

****

Far away on Romulus, The ProConsul was ignorant of his childrenâ€™s peril. Instead, he sat in the fine living room of another patrician family and sipped some Romulan tea while conversing with a young woman. She had jet-black hair and grey eyes, as was common among the upper classes of Romulus, and she had gotten excellent marks in school. She was also quite pretty, he thought.

â€œSo, Bala,â€ said the ProConsul, â€œAre you excited to meet my son Enme?

The girl sipped her tea with precision.

â€œMy father says I should be, so I am,â€ said the girl.

The ProConsul refrained from rolling his eyes. The girlâ€™s family were long time rivals of his family, and a marriage between the two houses would be excellent for both of them. However, this particular family were notorious for their subservient daughters. The ProConsul feared this girl might bore his son to death.

Suddenly, an aide appeared in the doorway.

â€œI told you not to disturb us,â€ said the ProConsul.

â€œYour excellency,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ve received alarming news.â€

The ProConsul got up and learned of the destruction of the the dilithium mines and the likely death of at least one of his sons. They did not yet know which of his children was piloting the prototype, but The ProConsul knew that Enme would never be so stupid as to allow the atmosphere to ignite that way.

****

Trip found himself in white space, without warning. Tâ€™Pol stood there in her Starfleet uniform looking serious.

_Thereâ€™s been an accident at the colony. The dilithium in the atmosphere has been ignited, much like the attack on the Paraagen colony two and a half years ago._

_Are you injured? Is Hoshi injured?_

_We are safe in a shelter. We had some warning that the explosion was about to occur, but we will likely need your assistance to get off the planet._

_Weâ€™re almost there. Malcolm thinks he can navigate a shuttle around the minefield._

_Strategically, it would be wise for Starfleet to attempt to disable the minefield and take possession of this planet._

_Understood._

The last thing on Tripâ€™s mind was the strategic value of that planet, but she was right. This was an opportunity the Alliance needed to use to its advantage.

_How did it happen?_

_An inexperienced pilot stole a vessel powered by dilithium, which ignited the atmosphere when most other vessels would not._

_Are Romulans usually that careless?_

_No. I must go. Be careful and hurry. It wonâ€™t be long before warbirds arrive._

****

Captain Archer looked at Admiral Williams on the viewscreen. He appeared confident and grim all at once.

â€œThis could start a full-scale war,â€ said Archer.

â€œWe are aware of that,â€ said the admiral, â€œbut weâ€™d rather do that on our schedule than theirs. We'll let these Romulans know that we won't just cower and wait for their attacks.â€

The admiral had just informed archer that The Columbia, three Vulcan War Cruisers, four Andorian warships and 6 small Tellarite battleships were on their way, all with express orders to secure the mining planet from the Romulans. Earth had also constructed several smaller, sleeker and better armed warp 5 vessels in the last year, and two of those were en route. Two more were staying behind to guard Earth. None of it seemed enough given the fact that the Romulans might have hundreds of drones and dozens of warbirds.

However, given the recent accident, this might be their best chance to wrest the dilithium operation from the Empire and obtain the substance for the Alliance.

â€œWe canâ€™t recognize any claim they have on that planet, Jon,â€ said Williams grimly.

â€œHopefully, they arenâ€™t ready to mount a full scale invasion, and weâ€™ll have more time to build ships and gather forces,â€ replied Jon.

â€œGood luck,â€ said Williams.

â€œThanks,â€ said Archer.

Jon instinctively reached into his cabinet for a bottle of bourbon, but he hesitated.

â€œDammit,â€ he said, looking down a Porthos, â€œWhat the hell am I doing?â€

He closed the cabinet without removing the bottle.

****

Everything in engineering was busy, with Tripâ€™s staff working carefully on getting the warp drive in optimal shape and assisting Malcolmâ€™s staff in making sure all weapons were at the ready.

Trip, meanwhile, was personally working on making sure the shuttle sensors were modified to detect cloaked mines. They were also trying to shield the pod from Romulan sensors, though they werenâ€™t sure that would be necessary now that the colony was all but destroyed.

â€œI canâ€™t believe the captain wonâ€™t let me accompany you to the surface,â€ said Trip.

â€œThe chief engineer canâ€™t be going on rescue missions,â€ replied Malcolm stiffly, â€œespecially ones involving the rescue of his wife.â€

Malcolm looked over at his friend and sighed. He was sympathetic, and he was grateful no one knew of his personal attachment to Hoshi.

â€œWeâ€™ll be fine,â€ said Malcolm, â€œDown to the surface and back up.â€

Trip nodded. He wished to hell that the transporter was an option, but the radiation levels in the atmosphere made that option too risky. It had never been the plan to take a shuttlepod to the surface, only have one circumnavigate the planet and take scans. Now, it was going to land.

Tâ€™Pol had told him they would stay near the shelter if at all possible, but she wasnâ€™t able to articulate their location beyond describing the topography and her sense that they were somewhere on a southern continent. Luckily, the giant blast gave them a general idea of where they need to look. The sensors would then need to look for a human biosign and that would be that.

***

Enme continued to tap into the console, but he appeared frustrated.

â€œThe transmitter grid is out,â€ he said, â€œbut hopefully a warbird is on the way due to the explosion.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow. The last time they had encountered a Romulan minefield, a warbird had been nearby. Considering the strategic value of this planet, she wondered why a warbird wasnâ€™t in orbit. Perhaps the Empire did not have as many ships as they wanted the Alliance to think they did.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ said Hoshi, â€œCome here.â€

Hoshi was kneeling by one of the Remans, who appeared to be asleep.

â€œI donâ€™t think heâ€™s alive,â€ continued Hoshi.

Tâ€™Pol examined the alien.

â€œHe could be in some sort of a deep coma. Without a tricorder, I cannot be certain.â€

â€œHeâ€™s dead,â€ said Enme, who had given up on the communicator. â€œRemans are sensitive to radiation poisoning.â€

Enme began to rifle through a few of the storage drawers that lined the shelter. He pulled out what appeared to be a medical kit and a scanner. After a few moments, he pressed a hypospray into his neck.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ he said, â€œthis should prevent you from getting the radiation sickness. Lt. Sato, weâ€™ll need to adjust the dosage for your human system. The scanner will help me do that.â€

Tâ€™Pol approached her brother and sat down next to him.

â€œWhat about the other Reman?â€

Enme appeared surprised.

â€œI donâ€™t even know if it would work on him,â€ said Enme, â€œThey are very sensitive and their physiology is totally different.â€

â€œTry,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, as he administered the drug to her.

â€œAfter Iâ€™m done with Lt. Sato,â€ said Enme, who was scanning Hoshi.

He adjusted the hypospray.

â€œIt wants me to put an additive in to dilute it manually. I think we have some of that,â€ he said, reaching into the drawer.

â€œHurry,â€ said Hoshi, â€œthis other Reman doesnâ€™t look well at all.â€

Enme resisted rolling his eyes. Concern for Remans? These two just didnâ€™t understand the order of things, he thought sadly. They were both going to have some adjusting to do once the Empire had annexed Earth and Vulcan.

He applied a hypospray to Hoshi.

â€œThank you,â€ she said, â€œNow do him.â€

Enme approached the Reman and scanned him as he did Hoshi. He then adjusted the hypospray and applied it to the manâ€™s neck.

â€œWeâ€™ll see if that works,â€ said Enme doubtfully.

Hoshi glanced over at Tâ€™Pol, who was her usual stoic self. No doubt it didnâ€™t surprise her how callous these Romulans were regarding Remans.

â€œWhat shall we do with the body?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol, who had determined the other Reman was indeed dead.

Enme stood up and threw the body of the Reman over his shoulder. He opened the hatch door and walked out. He had no plans to watch the Reman decompose, and now that they were all inoculated, the danger from the outside would be minimal. While he was outside, Tâ€™Pol glanced at Hoshi and nodded. Hoshi knew about the bond, and Tâ€™Pol wanted to reassure her that the ship knew of their situation. Rescue was might only be hours away.

â€œRemans burn their dead,â€ said Enme, â€œSo the best I could do was the incinerator.â€

Hoshi winced at the disrespect, but she said nothing.

â€œDid you assess the state of the house? Will we be able to reach the outside easily?â€

â€œI donâ€™t think the house is livable,â€ said Enme, â€œAlthough, thatâ€™s not saying much. But we should be able to climb through the rubble and reach the surface. Donâ€™t worry. Iâ€™m sure the Empire has already sent crews to investigate. They will find us.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. Little did he know that it was a Starfleet vessel that could very well arrive first.

****

Ston flew the small, one person ship at the highest warp. His piloting skills were minimal, but the interface made sense and he knew he would be on Romulus in just a matter of days. He wasnâ€™t sure what his father had been told about the adventure of recent days, but he was sure he would be able to explain everything away. The destruction of the mining colony was accidental, but he believed it could work in his favor. Besides Maleek, everyone with first-hand knowledge of the dilithium being transferred to Tâ€™Pol was dead. Or so Ston assumed. And Maleek wouldnâ€™t be a problem. He would just have to find away to convince father to take care of that for him. He knew he could do that, now that Enme was dead.

****

Six hours later, Enterprise was at all stop on the edge of the minefield. The sensors had been adjusted and the mines appeared on the viewscreen. Trip was on the bridge and he sat next to Malcolm reviewing the data.

â€œIt shouldnâ€™t be too difficult,â€ said Malcolm, â€œThe only defensive system still operational is the minefield. They had some sort of photonic missile system but it seems to have been destroyed in accident. That was the system that defended against smaller vessels.

â€œWhat about Romulan ships? Any signs of them?â€ asked the Captain.

â€œNot yet,â€ said Malcolm, knowing full well that may well be a bad sign as easily as it could be a good sign.

â€œTravis, youâ€™re with Mr. Reed,â€ said the Captain.

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Travis as he followed Malcolm to the shuttlebay, where two of Malcolmâ€™s security team would be waiting for them.

â€œTrip,â€ said Archer, â€œin my ready room.â€

Trip followed Archer into the ready room, where they would be away from the curious ears of some of the junior staff.

â€œHave you heard from Tâ€™Pol?â€

â€œNot since the last time,â€ he said, â€œI imagine sheâ€™ll want to keep contact to a minimum, given that sheâ€™s in the company of a high-ranking Romulan officer. Wouldnâ€™t want to tip her hand.â€

â€œSmart of her,â€ said Jon, â€œbut I need you to be ready to try and contact her if the away team has any trouble.â€

â€œYes sir,â€ said Trip, â€œCaptain, howâ€™s Starfleetâ€™s mood - regarding Tâ€™Pol?â€

â€œI didnâ€™t tell them the motivation for the kidnapping,â€ said Archer, â€œI didnâ€™t think it was relevant.â€

Trip nodded. Jon didnâ€™t want to lose Tâ€™Pol, and by extension Trip. So, he wasnâ€™t going to give Starfleet any reason to see Tâ€™Pol as an unnecessary risk.

â€œHowever,â€ continued Jon, â€œthey are very pleased at the intelligence she has gathered and the opportunity to take control of that mining planet.â€

Trip swallowed. He didnâ€™t like the idea of the Alliance making the first move in this conflict, but he also knew just how dangerous dilithium would be in the wrong hands, and the Romulans were the wrong hands.

â€œIn the meantime,â€ said Archer, â€œget back to engineering.â€

â€œYes, sir.â€

****

â€œIâ€™m done with staying cooped up,â€ said Enme, â€œI say we go to the surface.â€

â€œIf you believe it is safe,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWhat about the Reman?â€ said Hoshi.

Enme shrugged.

â€œHe can come with us. We might need someone to serve us drinks.â€

Hoshi stepped over to the curled up alien, and she spoke to him softly in Romulan, despite the fact that Enme had a UT on him. The Reman sat up, and Hoshi helped him stand.

The four of them exited the shelter and up the stairs. The basement room smelled of burning flesh from the dead Reman, but they quickly passed through and up to what was the back of the house. Enme, using all his strength, managed to remove the debris from a back door and they found themselves in the outside.

Rather than smelling fresh, the air smelt burnt and there was a stench of death in the breeze. There had been approximately 300 Romulans living down the hill in the colony proper, and Enme assumed they had all been killed.

â€œIt was more pleasant in the shelter,â€ he said, surveying the wasteland that used to be the colony.

Hoshi looked around and couldnâ€™t help thinking of the incident with the Paaragans. It was unthinkable that something like this could happen, and yet if a substance was valuable enough, it may be considered worth the risk.

Tâ€™Pol looked at Hoshi. It was vital that they had left the shelter, as it was unlikely the shuttlepodâ€™s senors would be able to pick up their biosigns there.

â€œIs there a place where we should head?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol, â€œAn area where rescue would be most likely?â€

Enme shook his head.

â€œA warbird would be able to detect us anywhere on this continent, and they would send a craft to retrieve us. Donâ€™t worry. It will likely be no more than a day or so. We should probably stick close to the shelter, as that is where rations and facilities are located."

â€œPerhaps we should search for other survivors,â€ suggested Hoshi.

â€œIf that would entertain you,â€ said Enme, â€œbut I doubt there are any survivors so close to the mines where the fire would have been hotter. Even if people made it to the shelters there, they would have been cooked inside them.â€

Hoshi sighed. She hoped the shuttlepod would arrive soon.

****

Malcolm looked carefully at the sensor data.

â€œOne human biosign. Two Vulcan. One unknown.â€

â€œCould that be a Romulan, sir?â€ asked Travis.

â€œPossibly,â€ lied Malcolm. He guessed there was only one Vulcan down there and one Romulan.

â€œSet a course to land nearby,â€ said Malcolm, â€œMake sure your phasers are set to stun, but maximum setting.â€

The shuttle approached the surface of the mining colony, heading to the remains of the VIP house.

****

Tâ€™Pol saw the light in the sky first. She recognized it as an Enterprise shuttlepod, given that it was unlikely a Romulan vessel would emit light of that shape and size in the sky. She glanced over at her brother, wondering how he would react to being rescued by a group of humans. If their situation wasnâ€™t so serious, she might have found the notion amusing.

â€œEnme,â€ she said, â€œdo you believe that Ston might come back?â€

â€œHe probably assumes we are dead,â€ said Enme, â€œSo I think heâ€™s likely gone back to try and save himself somehow. I do hope heâ€™s capable of feeling a little guilt. Although, he might just be a . . .do you have a word for it . . .psychopath?â€

â€œOh,â€ said Hoshi, â€œWe have a word for it. A few actually.â€

â€œI suppose people without conscience exist in all humanoid societies,â€ said Enme, â€œHow is the Reman?â€

â€œNot well,â€ said Hoshi, â€œHe needs medical attention.â€

Enme sighed, but before he could respond he noticed the light in the sky that had become large and was moving closer.

â€œHelp may be on its way,â€ he said tentatively.

Tâ€™Pol glanced at Hoshi. Hoshi looked up at the sky and also recognized the shape of a shuttlepod. Very soon, its shape became more apparent in the sky, and Enme realized it was not a Romulan vessel. He also recognized that neither his sister nor the human woman appeared surprised or worried.

â€œFriends of yours?â€ he said.

â€œA shuttle from our vessel,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIâ€™m sure our captain will be willing to help you and the Reman return to Romulan space. We are not yet officially at war, after all.â€

Enme bit his lip and instinctively reached for his sidearm, which was not there. He had left it in the house and it was currently under piles of rubble. There was likely a particle rifle in the shelter, but he had not brought it with him. He cursed himself for his foolishness and arrogance.

Enme paced a bit and looked at his sister. She looked at him. They both knew she had the upper hand.

â€œIâ€™ll introduce you as Vulcan, if you like,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œItâ€™s the least I can do in return for your kindness.â€

Hoshi glanced at Tâ€™Pol, and she figured that Tâ€™Polâ€™s offer had way more to do with keeping the identity of the Romulans a secret than any protection for her brother.

â€œHowever,â€ she said, â€œI advise you not to smile or show any emotion, lest you give yourself away.â€

Enme nodded and looked down at his uniform. _Would these humans be so dense as to believe he was a Vulcan?_

By this time, the shuttle had landed. Malcolm, Travis and two security officers emerged from the shuttle.

Malcolm approached Tâ€™Pol.

â€œCommander,â€ he said, â€œwhat is the situation?â€

â€œWe are the only four survivors of the blast, as far as we know. We have all been inoculated against the radiation, but the Reman is still quite ill and should be taken to sickbay as soon as possibleâ€

Malcolm looked at Enme.

â€œPhlox inoculated all of us before we left the ship. What about him?â€

â€œHe is fine. He is a. . .a Vulcan who was also a prisoner here.â€

Malcolm recognized the un-Vulcan hesitation in her voice. It wasnâ€™t like her, and that was enough for him to realize the young man was a Romulan - one wearing a military uniform.

â€œHe is unarmed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œGood,â€ said Malcolm, â€œNo time to waste. Letâ€™s get going.â€

â€œI believe I should stay,â€ said Enme, â€œI think that I might try and look for survivors. . .â€

â€œI canâ€™t allow that,â€ said Malcolm, â€œItâ€™s too dangerous.â€

Enme walked up to Malcolm and towered over him.

â€œI insist,â€ said Enme.

Malcolm stunned him with a phase pistol.

â€œWas that really necessary, Lt. Commander?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIf you want the man to live it is. There are at least two dozen Alliance shipped headed here to take this planet. I seriously doubt one . . .Vulcan could survive the coming battle.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œGet him into the pod,â€ ordered Malcolm to his two men. Then, he turned his attention to his two colleagues.

Tâ€™Pol noticed a quick glance between Hoshi and Malcolm. It was almost imperceivable, but they were clearly glad to see each other.

â€œYou two are looking well,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œRomulans are very polite hosts,â€ said Hoshi who was assisting the Reman, â€œand Iâ€™ve even learned a great deal about their language. Of course, thereâ€™s little doubt in my mind they have every intention of invading and conquering every habited planet in this sector.â€

â€œIs that a Romulan?â€ asked Travis, amazed at the Reman.

â€œNo,â€ said Hoshi, honestly, â€œItâ€™s a Reman. Romulans use them as slaves.â€

They all entered the shuttle and took their seats, and Travis took off toward Enterprise, hoping they would be able to arrive and dock before any Romulan ships arrived.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.

Rating: This is a tame chapter. PG-13 for non-explicit R/S sex.  


* * *

The shuttlepod landed safely in the bay of the ship, and Malcolm had formulated a plan in his head. He didnâ€™t want to place the Romulan into the brig, as he didnâ€™t want to field questions as to why a Vulcan was in the brig in the first place. He would have this man confined to his quarters until Starfleet figured out what to do with him.

He looked over at the tall, obviously military man who was slumped unconscious next to Tâ€™Pol, and he instinctively knew that he wouldnâ€™t be an easy man to hold secure. The man was also glowing slightly, as were Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi. No doubt their skin and hair was coated with a thin layer of dilithium dust. Luckily, it appeared the he and the rest of the landing party had been spared the same fate, possibly because most of the dilithium dust in the planetâ€™s atmosphere had been ignited.

He glanced over at Hoshi, who had not yet met his eyes on the journey. As much as Malcolm focused on his job and the professional nature of the current situation, he was hyper-aware of her presence, and he suspected she was experiencing the same thing. He took a quick breath and focused on his job.

â€œThe man should be unconscious for several more hours. Once he clears decon, I want him confined to guest quarters with three guards outside. Phase pistols set on maximum stun setting,â€ ordered Malcolm.

As it turned out, Phlox determined decon was the best place to rid Hoshi, Tâ€™Pol and Enme of the dilithium dust. Malcolmâ€™s men carried Enme into the decon chamber. Malcolm had already taken an image of the uniform to send to Starfleet intelligence.

â€œTake off the uniform and destroy it,â€ ordered Malcolm, â€œwe can get him a jumpsuit to wear.â€

This man needed to understand he wasnâ€™t a soldier, anymore. He was a prisoner.

****

About an hour later, Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol sat in the decon chamber and stared at the unconscious Enme.

â€œIt seems a shame we canâ€™t let him go,â€ said Hoshi, â€œHe did rescue us.â€

â€œHe was unaware that hostilities were about to break out. Had he known, it is unlikely we would have been released.â€

Hoshi nodded.

â€œHeâ€™s still your brother,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œI only met him yesterday,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Hoshi looked at Tâ€™Polâ€™s face. She appeared as Vulcan as ever, no hint that this lousy situation bothered her. Hoshi, for her part, suddenly felt that she was on the wrong side of the moral fence. She knew war was about to begin, but she never thought the Alliance would make the move that started it.

For her part, Tâ€™Pol had begun to wonder where Trip was, specifically. She sensed him nearby, and the relief he felt at her safe return. No doubt he wanted to spare her an emotional reunion in front of the crew, so he had not met them in the launch bay. Perhaps he would come to decon, but possibly not. He might find it frustrating not to be able to touch her. She thought about meditating and finding him in white space, but she decided against it. Too many distractions. She would see Trip soon enough. She was patient.

Phlox appeared in the window.

â€œYouâ€™re all clear. Thereâ€™s a security team to take our guest to his quarters. The captain is currently on a subspace conference call with various members of the Alliance. He said he would like to meet with you for a debriefing three hours. You are to rest until then. You are both ordered to return to your quarters.â€

****

Tâ€™Pol opened the door to her home, knowing Trip was inside. She walked in and saw him standing there, on the opposite end of the room, leaning against the bulkhead. The scent of him washed over her, mixing with the other familiar scents of their shared life. For the first time since her rescue, she felt her guard start to let down. It was strange that less than a day ago, it had been a real possibility that she would never experience the comforts of this room again.

â€œI came to sickbay,â€ he said softly, â€œbut I knew you wouldnâ€™t like a scene in front of the others. So I left once Phlox told me your were fine.â€

â€œThank you. I might have found it difficult to maintain appropriate restraint.â€

â€œI doubt that,â€ he said, half-smiling.

She felt his torrent of emotions starting to come undone. Now that she was safe, he wasnâ€™t finding it so easy to keep them wrapped up. She crossed the room to stand in front of him.

She held her hand up, but in his daze, he didnâ€™t move. She took his hand with her free one and guided it to her right hand and entwined his fingers with hers. She wasnâ€™t exactly the model of the serene Vulcan at the moment, but she had more control than him. She gifted him with some of that control, just as she experienced some of the terror he had felt when she was gone. A mixture of fear, helplessness and anger flowed into her mind, and she was dizzy.

He broke the link of their fingers to hold her steady, and then he led her into the bedroom. He laid her down gently, and then finally took her into his arms. As he cradled her, he breathed in the familiar copper smell of her hair and skin.

â€œIâ€™m sorry I overwhelmed you,â€ he whispered, â€œI didnâ€™t want to do that.â€

â€œIâ€™m sorry my peril caused you such fear,â€ she said, â€œand Iâ€™m glad to be home.â€

They stayed silent for a long while. Words of love and longing and gratitude for her safety were redundant.

Gradually, she began to speak of her ordeal. She had experienced worse, but the situation had been filled with precarious unknowns. Finally, she reached a critical part of her story.

â€œSo the Romulan that we have as a prisoner is your brother, too?â€

â€œYes,â€ she said simply.

Trip sat up and looked into her eyes, where he found no hint of conflict. He didnâ€™t even see a hint of curiosity.

â€œHe saved you and Hoshi,â€ he said.

â€œHeâ€™s also an officer in the Romulan Imperial Military Command,â€ she said, â€œand he would not have released us had he known outright warfare was imminent. I am more concerned with our ability to safely hold him. He strikes me as a formidable person.â€

â€œAre you going to go talk to him when he wakes up?â€

â€œIf the captain thinks its appropriate,â€ she said.

Trip closed his eyes. Nobody was supposed to even know that Romulans and Vulcans looked alike. Now they had a high-ranking Romulan officer as a prisoner, and the man was also his brother-in-law. And the war was about to start. What more could possibly happen?

****

Hoshi was curled up on her bed staring out at the stars when the chime on her door rang. She sat up and put her feet on the ground. They were bare, but she had put on a fresh uniform.

â€œCome in,â€ she said.

Malcolm appeared in the doorway. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Their lips met, bodies entwined and they fell back on the bed. Unlike their last time together, there was nothing careful about this coupling. It was a blur. Before either of them realized it what had happened, they found themselves naked, facing one another on the bed with a shared sense of euphoria and relief.

â€œIâ€™m glad you're safe,â€ he said finally.

â€œMe too,â€ she said.

â€œHowâ€™s the prisoner?â€ she asked.

â€œStill unconscious,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œHe rescued us,â€ said Hoshi, â€œWe probably wouldnâ€™t have escaped our captors without him. We certainly wouldnâ€™t have survived the blast without him warning us.â€

Malcolm nodded. He couldnâ€™t believe he owed a Romulan officer a debt of gratitude.

â€œI want to let him go,â€ she continued.

Malcolm looked at her.

â€œFairness and honor arenâ€™t usually part of war, despite what you might have seen in movies,â€ he sighed.

â€œWhat are we going to do with him?â€

â€œI donâ€™t know,â€ replied Malcolm.

****

â€œYou want me to what?â€ asked Archer.

He was debriefing Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi in his private mess, over dinner. It was an informal arrangement, but it was also very private. The Romulan-Vulcan connection was in danger of being revealed over this incident, and he needed to figure out how to keep it under wraps while keeping a Romulan prisoner on his ship. Now he suspected Tâ€™Pol and Hoshi had contracted a mild case of Stockholm syndrome.

â€œYou should have him to dinner tomorrow night,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œOf course, weâ€™ll keep him under guard, but if we treat him as a guest heâ€™ll likely behave as one. From what I have witnessed in two encounters, Romulans respect family and hospitality. So, I will join you, of course.â€

Archer sat back in his chair. He instinctively reached of a glass of wine, which wasnâ€™t there given the official nature of the proceedings.

â€œWeâ€™re a few hours away from full scale war with them,â€ said Archer, â€œTwo days, at the most.â€

â€œHe doesnâ€™t know that,â€ said Hoshi, â€œand you owe him your thanks for saving us, regardless of the circumstances.â€

â€œWe canâ€™t return a high-ranking member of their military to them. If he were a civilian, Iâ€™d say let him go. . .â€

â€œWe havenâ€™t asked you to let him go,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI am advising you that from a strategic point of view, treating him with hospitality will make him a less dangerous prisoner.â€

Archer turned to Hoshi, who had gotten a look at their literary database.

â€œTheir literature is full of references to hospitality. Itâ€™s definitely a cultural trait,â€ said Hoshi, â€œWe were treated as guests by both of the groups that held us. I think if we treat him roughly, heâ€™ll respond in kind, and he strikes me as someone with the skills to be very threatening.â€

Archer closed his eyes and imagined writing a report to Starfleet that involved hosting a dinner party for a high-ranking Romulan officer a few hours before the war started. He supposed stranger things had happened, but he found the juxtaposition between his planning for the upcoming battle and the thought of socializing. . .odd.

â€œWhat should we serve?â€

â€œThey arenâ€™t vegetarians,â€ said Hoshi, thinking of the pigeon sheâ€™d eaten.

****

Enme awoke in a strange, sparse room aboard a starship, wearing a very plain and thus degrading jumpsuit. Thankfully, however, they had left him his boots, which not only had been custom fitted to his feet but had also been well-broken in by now, despite their polish. He sat up and looked out the window, gratefully noting that the ship wasnâ€™t at warp.

He gradually remembered being stunned by one of the humans and assumed that he was aboard their ship. He didnâ€™t know why they had bothered to take him, but these quarters didnâ€™t appear like a prison cell. He inhaled the cool air of the ship and shivered. Humans apparently preferred cooler temperatures.

Iâ€™m not a prisoner, he thought, so they will likely release me.

He noticed a pitcher and glasses on the desk. The pitcher was filled with water, and he poured himself a glass.

Water, he thought. Barbaric. Weâ€™d have left fine ale.

He drank a glass of water, and then went to open the door. He couldnâ€™t make it open so he pounded at it.

â€œIâ€™ve awakened,â€ he shouted.

The door opened.

â€œGood Evening,â€ said the security officer.

â€œWhere am I? When I am to be released?â€

â€œIâ€™ll alert the Captain and Commander Tâ€™Pol that youâ€™ve awakened. Itâ€™s the middle of the night, you see. However, we are under orders to bring you whatever you request to eat or drink.â€

â€œI donâ€™t know what to request,â€ said Enme, â€œI met my first human only this morning, so I have no clue what you people eat.â€

â€œIâ€™ll have whatever the Chef made for Commander Tâ€™Pol brought to you,â€ said the guard, â€œI believe he saved some for you.â€

â€œI suppose that would be fine,â€ said Enme, realizing the guard assumed he was a Vulcan. â€œThank you.â€

If the guard noticed this man was expressing more emotion than a Vulcan should, he didnâ€™t appear surprised. He just shut the door.

****

Archer looked at Admiral Williamsâ€™s face on the screen.

â€œUnder no circumstances can you release him,â€ ordered the Admiral.

â€œI agree, but what will we do with him?â€ said Jon.

â€œIâ€™ve already contacted the Vulcans,â€ he said, â€œThey will take custody of him. Once the battle or skirmish or whatever it is that is about to happen happens, their battle cruiser will take the man aboard. It will be up to them what to do with him. They are far more equipped to deal with him.â€

Jon nodded.

â€œYou understand your orders? Enterprise will only be providing support to the more battle ready ships. She wasnâ€™t designed as a war ship - you are to leave the heavy lifting to the ships that were.â€

Jon nodded.

â€œBut make sure your sickbay is ready. The battleships will be transporting patients to you. Weâ€™ve got three doctors to transport over, as soon as they arrive. They will be assisting Phlox.â€

â€œWeâ€™ll do our part,â€ said Jon.

â€œI look forward to reading your report. Iâ€™d love the opportunity to sit down to dinner with a Romulan.â€

Jon said nothing.

â€œGood luck, Jonathan.â€

â€œThanks, Admiralâ€

***

The chime rang on Enmeâ€™s door.

â€œIt is beyond my power to open the door,â€ he shouted, â€œSomething which you undoubtedly know!â€

The door opened, and he saw his sister standing there. She wore her official blue uniform with its blue stripe around her shoulders. It occurred to him that he had no idea what the blue designated.

She stood at ease, and she was unaccompanied by the guards. He stood across from her in a Romulan Military pose, hands at behind his back, legs straight.

â€œHello, sister,â€ said Enme.

She nodded.

â€œAre you fully recovered from being stunned?â€

â€œYes,â€ said Enme, â€œI feel fine.â€

â€œI have experienced the same thing. It is not pleasant, but you should feel no adverse side effects.â€

â€œWhy didnâ€™t the humans leave me on the planet?â€

â€œThe Alliance believes the mining colony to be of strategic value. The have decided not to recognize the Romulan claim to it. Ships will arrive shortly to seize control of this system.â€

â€œSo,â€ said Enme, â€œyour leaders have gone mad, then.â€

â€œUnder the circumstances,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œLt. Commander Reed felt you would be safer aboard Enterprise.â€

â€œSo,â€ he said, â€œI assume I wonâ€™t be let go.â€

â€œIt is unlikely. However, if your people allow the Alliance to take the mining colony peacefully. . .â€

Enme rolled his eyes.

â€œYou know as well as I the odds of that happening. . .â€

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™m sorry.â€

â€œSo am I,â€ he said.

â€œNonetheless, the Captain wishes to dine with you this evening,â€ she said, gesturing to the chronometer. It was no longer night but early morning.

â€œI accept the invitation. Itâ€™s always good to meet oneâ€™s gaoler.â€

â€œHeâ€™s a good man. Honorable,â€ she said.

Enme looked at his sister. Her face was bloody unreadable. No expression whatsoever. She looked like a Romulan, but she sure as hell didnâ€™t emote like one. No wonder his ancestors had made the exodus. It would be a peculiar kind of hell to live among people that never expressed emotion.

â€œYou know Iâ€™ll eventually have to try and escape.â€

She nodded.

â€œThat would be unwise at the moment. Our escape pods and shuttles are short-range, and we are very near the minefield. It is doubtful you would make it to the planetâ€™s surface. If you did, you would probably be killed in the upcoming conflict or taken by the Alliance again.â€

Enme smirked.

â€œSo you are advising me to try and escape later,â€ he sighed.

â€œI am simply pointing out that currently, an escape attempt would be illogical.â€

â€œIâ€™m a Romulan,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m not logical.â€

â€œNevertheless,â€ she said, â€œweâ€™ll treat you well.â€

â€œThey sent me vegetarian food. I hardly call the treating me well.â€

â€œMost of the humans believe you to be a Vulcan who was working with the Romulans. They donâ€™t know of our kinship.â€

â€œBy kinship - do you mean Vulcan and Romulans or you and me?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œI suppose I mean both, brother.â€

He thought for a moment. Romulans and Vulcans were far apart on many things but keeping their kinship a secret was one issue upon which they agreed. He wasnâ€™t about to enlighten anyone aboard this ship about his true ethnicity. Also, he thought, he would likely gain the confidence of people aboard if they thought he was a Vulcan. He resolved to not smile anymore, if he could help himself. He bit his lip at the thought.

â€œYou must be happy to be back aboard. This ship is your home, is it not?â€ he asked, changing the subject.

â€œYes.â€

â€œWell, I hope for your sake and mine this ship isnâ€™t destroyed in the upcoming conflict.â€

â€œI shall see you tonight, brother.â€

â€œI look forward to it, sister.â€


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns all.

Rating: R for sex, mild swearing and heavy drinking.  


* * *

Trip awoke, startled to find himself alone. It took a moment for him to remember that Tâ€™Pol had been safely returned to him. He closed his eyes and felt no sense of peril, no need from her. She was just gone.

He sat up and reached from the comm system, but he stopped short. He suspected where she was, and it made him more than uneasy. The Captain had given her 24 hours off recover, so she wasnâ€™t on duty. That is, she had the day off as long as the shooting didnâ€™t start. But if it had started, he would have been awakened as well.

He turned on the light and grabbed a PADD off the nightstand. For the next few minutes he pretended to concentrate on the latest article in a warp field journal, then he heard the door open. Tâ€™Pol appeared in the doorway.

â€œI hope I didnâ€™t wake you,â€ she said.

â€œYou went to see him,â€ he said.

â€œYes,â€ he said, â€œThe captain thought it was a good idea, given our family connection.â€

â€œHow is he?â€

â€œHe is physically well. As expected, he is restless and unhappy at being a prisoner.â€

Tâ€™Pol sat down on the edge of the bed and took of her boots. She then crawled up next to Trip, who looked at her half-accusingly.

â€œHe poses no danger to me.â€

â€œWell, at the very least, Iâ€™m glad itâ€™s not your other brother who is stuck in our brig. This one seems sane at least.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œSane. But Romulan to the core. He will try and escape.â€

â€œHow does that make you feel?â€ said Trip.

She looked at him as if the question had no meaning.

â€œHeâ€™s your brother, and he saved you and Hoshi. Weâ€™ve got a saying on Earth, blood is thicker than water.â€

Still no reaction.

â€œHoney,â€ said Trip, â€œyouâ€™ve got no family left on Vulcan. It would be only natural for you to be curious about him or sympathize with him. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol tilted her head at Trip.

â€œThat is a human perspective. He may be my half-sibling, but he is Romulan and I am Vulcan. We are different. We also donâ€™t know each other.â€

â€œBut family. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol slipped her hand into Tripâ€™s.

â€œYouâ€™re my family,â€ she said.

****

The ProConsul looked down at the screen in front of him to see his son Ston smirking at him with infuriating smugness.

â€œIâ€™m telling you father. It wasnâ€™t me that gave her the dilithium sample. It was Enme. He was the traitor, not me. Now heâ€™s dead.â€

The ProConsulâ€™s face remained stoic - nearly Vulcan. He knew damn well that it was Ston and not Enme who had exposed the mining operation. He also knew that Stonâ€™s incompetence had led to the deaths on the mining colony that included his beloved Enme and possibly Tâ€™Pol. The ProConsul held out hope that she had left for her ship before the explosion, and he had intelligence officers working on confirmation of that. However, he wasnâ€™t sure what he was going to do with his insane son.

On the one hand, the ProConsul would have liked to kill him with his own hands for what he had done. On the other hand, he was alive and Enme was dead. Suddenly, his only living, unmarried son had become very important to him.

As much as it sickened him to do so, the ProConsul resolved to follow the living. He would protect his prodigal son and protect the new alliance - even if it meant destroying the memory of his dead son.

Stonâ€™s lie would have to stand.

â€œCome home to Romulus as soon as you can, my son,â€ said The ProConsul before abruptly hanging up. He stood up and went into the next room, where the girl Bala sat quietly with her Reman servant.

â€œMy son Ston will arrive soon,â€ he said, â€œIt is now important that you meet him.â€

****

Malcolm and Hoshi were curled up under the covers in her quarters, sharing a bottle of wine and looking out at the stars. She had been saving the bottle for a special occasion, and she couldnâ€™t think of a more special occasion that her rescue and subsequent reunion with Malcolm.

Besides, she thought, given that a massive war is about to start, Iâ€™d better seize the moment.

â€œDid I tell you how happy I am that youâ€™re safe?â€ said Malcolm.

â€œI think thatâ€™s the twentieth time,â€ she laughed.

â€œRemind me to stop around 100,â€ said Malcolm. â€œSo, heâ€™s really Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother?â€

â€œIt seems so,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œHow did she react?â€

â€œLike a Vulcan,â€ said Hoshi, â€œshe didnâ€™t seem to care one way or another.â€

â€œWhatâ€™s he like?â€

â€œUn-Vulcan,â€ she said, â€œTheyâ€™re totally different, Romulans. They laugh and smile, but even the sane ones seem, well. . .letâ€™s just say I understand Vulcans better after meeting their cousins. . . they seem very volatile.â€

Malcolm took a deep breath and remembered his first encounter with the Romulans, which involved having his leg skewered and the rest of him nearly being blown to smithereens.

â€œWeâ€™ve orders to start dismantling the minefield,â€ said Malcolm, â€œWeâ€™re going to start in the morning, even the the first Vulcan cruiser wonâ€™t arrive until midday.â€

â€œAt least it will give us something to do,â€ said Hoshi, â€œI hate the empty waiting around.â€

â€œWell, at least weâ€™ve found something to do with our time. . .â€

Malcolm caressed the top of her shoulder, which peeked out from the blanket that covered them. She smiled softly.

â€œSo . .â€ he said, â€œwe havenâ€™t really had time to talk about this. . .â€

â€œWhatâ€™s there to talk about?â€

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œwe work together - and well, . . .â€

She kissed him on the cheek.

â€œI donâ€™t know what I would have said. . days ago, before,â€ she whispered, â€œbut a war is coming. All we have is right now.â€

Malcolm looked into her eyes, which had started to tear. All the years he had known her, he had never seen her cry. He held up his glass.

â€œTo right now then.â€

****

Trip looked down at his wifeâ€™s face, which was lit only by the glowing starlight from the window. Her eyes were shut, head thrown back and her hair clung to the sides of her face. He leaned down and kissed her on the neck, as his hands were entwined with hers on either side of her head. He didnâ€™t want to move at all or do anything to end this moment. If the war started right then, and the ship blown out of space, he would be happy to die right there, feeling what it was like to be inside her. It was familiar now, yet still somewhat alien. The heat of her body, its copper scent, her strength - even the placement of her heartbeat - these were all different from a human woman. He hadnâ€™t known what he was missing, thatâ€™s for sure. Now, he couldnâ€™t imagine being with anyone else.

â€œOpen your eyes,â€ he whispered.

She obeyed him, and their eyes locked. He noticed a subtle twitch at the corners of her mouth - her Vulcan smile.

As if to hide it, she reached up and kissed him on the mouth. They melted into each other, both knowing how precious every moment was.

****

Archer sat in his room, alone and sleepless. Even Porthos, sound asleep, was no company. He paced for awhile, then decided to make himself useful. He decided to pay a visit to their guest. He dressed in his uniform, grabbed the best bottle of bourbon he had and walked with as much military efficiency as he could effect. The guard let him past, and he found the Romulan sitting in a chair with his feet up against the bulkhead, looking out the window.

â€œGood evening,â€ said Archer, â€œIâ€™m Captain Archer.â€

â€œCommander Enme of the Romulan Star Empire,â€ said Enme â€œbut I suppose you already knew that. My sister or Lt. Sato must have informed you of my identity.â€

Archer looked at the young man, and he was mildly shocked by just how much he resembled Tâ€™Pol. Their facial structure, the set of the eyes was all quite similar. His eyes were dark though. Very dark.

â€œDid Tâ€™Pol inform you of the current political situation?â€

Enme stood up and faced his captor, suddenly effecting a military posture.

â€œYouâ€™ve decided to violate the sovereignty of the Empire,â€ he said, exasperation in his voice.

â€œItâ€™s my understanding that your Empire had every ambition to violate the sovereignty of everyone in the Alpha quadrant.â€

Enme cocked his head to one side.

â€œIs that what you all call this sector? The Alpha quadrant?â€

Archer nodded.

â€œWe do plan on annexing it,â€ he said, â€œand if you had any sense at all, youâ€™d see the benefits.â€

Archer laughed. He laughed at his prisoner, who apparently knew nothing about humans and less about Vulcans.

â€œWhy would we do that? You havenâ€™t exactly been selling yourselves.â€

Archer took two glasses from the table and opened the bourbon.

â€œCommander Tâ€™Pol and Lt. Sato told me all about Romulan Ale. I figured Iâ€™d return the favor you gave them and share this with you. Itâ€™s from Earth. American whiskey, called bourbon. This bottle is one of the finest youâ€™ll find, aged to perfection.â€

Enme walked over and took the glass.

â€œItâ€™s an unappetizing color,â€ sniffed Enme.

â€œMost humans consider blue unappetizing. Appropriate for clothes, not consumables.â€

â€œTouche,â€ said Enme, â€œMay I propose a toast?â€

â€œDo Romulans toast?â€

â€œA human custom your Lt. Sato introduced to me. Apparently it started as a way to determine if one is being poisoned by oneâ€™s host.â€

Archer nodded and held up his glass.

â€œMay this ship survive the coming battle,â€ said Enme, â€œMy life depends on it.â€

â€œIâ€™ll drink to that,â€ said Archer.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Enme spoke.

â€œTell me about my sister,â€ said Enme.

â€œWhether I can do that or not depends on what you want to know.â€

â€œShe struck me as honorable. Is she?â€

â€œAs honorable a person as Iâ€™ve ever known,â€ said Archer.

â€œIs she happy?â€

Archer furrowed his brow.

â€œYou do know about Vulcans donâ€™t you?â€

â€œVulcans are Romulans. Romulans are Vulcans. Sheâ€™s capable of being happy. Is she?â€

â€œI think so. A terrible thing happened to her last year - she and Commander Tucker lost a child. I donâ€™t think anyone human, Vulcan . . .or Romulan could ever come through something like that unscathed. But she seems happy.â€

Enme helped himself to a generous second glass of bourbon and poured the captain one as well.

â€œI read about that. You humans are sick.â€

â€œNot all of us,â€ said Archer, â€œbut Terra Prime represented the worst of us.â€

â€œTo be fair,â€ said Enme as he gulped down his whole glass, â€œIâ€™d already be dead if our situation was reversed. We wouldnâ€™t bother holding a high ranking enemy officer on the eve of a battle. Not even for information.â€

â€œAs far as Iâ€™m concerned itâ€™s bad luck all around that youâ€™re here,â€ said Archer, â€œI owe you thanks for saving my crew members. Even though we canâ€™t release you, I wonâ€™t forget that I owe you a debt of honor.â€

Enme searched Archerâ€™s face. He was being honest. Strange, he thought. He found himself in the odd position of respecting weakness as honorable. It was an unusual sensation.

****

Trip and Tâ€™Pol made their way to the Captainâ€™s mess that evening. The crew had had a busy day using the phase canons to blast away most of the minefield. It had been productive, and Trip and Malcolmâ€™s teams were busy restoring the drained power to their weapons as quickly as possible. The captain wanted everything to be at maximum efficiency. So, Trip was irritated at having to socialize with a Romulan instead of help his crew with their work.

On the other hand, he was curious as hell to get a look at his wifeâ€™s brother.

Three heavily armed guards let them into the Captainâ€™s mess.

They arrived to find Hoshi already there, seated next to the prisoner. They were chatting in Romulan. Trip blinked for a moment. The man looked like a Vulcan. Specifically, he looked like Tâ€™Pol, but he looked up smiled at them. It was disconcerting.

â€œGood to see you again, sister,â€ said Enme, following Archerâ€™s lead and standing up to greet the new arrivals.

â€œHello, brother,â€ said Tâ€™Pol in Vulcan monotone.

â€œThis is my husband, Commander Charles Tucker the Third,â€ she continued formally.

â€œIt is a pleasure,â€ said Enme.

â€œLikewise,â€ said Trip.

â€œI had the chef prepare steak, since I heard you were an omnivore,â€ said the captain, as they all sat down around the table. The steward came in and poured them all glasses, making sure to pour smaller portions for Enme and T'Pol since he assumed they were both Vulcans. The Captain, continuing the tradition his started with his guest, toasted to all of their continued safety in the coming days.

â€œA fascinating but lightweight beverage. We do have a kind of port,â€ Enme said, â€œbut nothing like this. Tell me, Tâ€™Pol, do all Vulcans drink? I heard it was taboo in your culture.â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped her wine.

â€œIt is frowned upon, but those of us living among off worlders are free to adapt,â€ she said smoothly.

â€œI suppose we canâ€™t ask you much about your culture given the circumstances,â€ said Hoshi, â€œbut thank you for letting me have a look at the literary database.â€

Enme turned to her and smiled, warmly with no hint of cynicism.

â€œI thought it would improve your diction and possibly even your accent,â€ said Enme, â€œand Iâ€™m sure that you will be very useful once this part of space has been annexed.â€

Trip glanced over at Archer, and they both knew better than to take the bait.

â€œI really enjoyed the ancient poems,â€ said Hoshi, â€œbut if fear any modern Romulans might find my accent weirdly influenced by them. â€œ

She still spoke in Romulan.

â€œItâ€™s actually very pretty,â€ said Enme as he locked eyes with her, â€œI think most Romulans would find it very charming.â€

Even through the universal translator, Trip picked up the flirtation in the Romulanâ€™s voice. It irritated him. Hoshi was kind of like a kid sister to him, especially since his own sister had died, and he didnâ€™t want any sister of his making eyes at a Romulan.

Maybe it's a good thing that Tâ€™Pol is related to this guy, he thought.

Hoshi noticed the flirtation too, and she wished that Malcolm was there to deflect it. On the other hand, she was flattered. There was just something about him that was - dangerous.

_Easy, girl,_ she thought, _you broke your bad boy habit back in school._

Tâ€™Pol remained quiet, seemingly unaffected by the unusual company. Trip didnâ€™t even sense anything strange from her, but somewhere between dinner and dessert, she brushed his hand under the table with her own.

Archer for his part was impressed with the Romulan, who was probably under tremendous stress and was managing not to show it - without the benefit of Vulcan-style emotional suppression. He made conversation, answering questions he felt he could and easily deflecting the ones he thought he couldnâ€™t answer. Several more times, he tried to rattle his hosts but, confident they had the upper hand, not one of the Starfleet officers responded.

****

Malcolm paced outside the captainâ€™s mess. He understood why he wasnâ€™t invited, but on the other hand his curiosity was nearly overwhelming They were dining with a Romulan - the mysterious, unknown race that was about to attempt an invasion. And he was standing outside in the hall like he was a common guard.

He sighed. He wanted to be in their sitting next to Hoshi, who he had worked out would be the dinner partner of the mysterious - and tall - Romulan. The one she said she owed her life to.

Malcolm just didnâ€™t like it. He didnâ€™t like it one bit.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: This chapter PG-13 for violence and angst.

  
Author's notes: Rating: This chapter PG-13 for violence and angst. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing.   


* * *

The entire ship shook under the assault of a Romulan drone ship. Travis was thrown from his chair and dislocated his shoulder, but he pressed on through the pain, helping the ship navigate to avoid further pounding from the enemy. Malcolm kept calibrating the weapons through each blast the ship took, adjusting to make each of their counter assaults against the drone more accurate. Hoshi monitored every report from the join chiefs, making sure they were aware of the status of all the other ships. Trip was in engineering, supervising any repairs that could be made during the battle. Tâ€™Pol sat at her station, monitoring all the data from the shipâ€™s systems.

Archer sat in the big chair, eyes on the viewscreen, barking orders. Finally, after what seemed like hours of pounding, Tâ€™Pol spoke.

â€œThe shielding on the drone ship is no longer functioning,â€ she said.

â€œTarget the warp core,â€ said Archer, â€œand fire when ready.â€

Malcolm complied without a word. The drone exploded.

â€œGood work, Mr. Reed,â€ said Archer grimly.

â€œSir,â€ said Hoshi, â€œweâ€™ve been ordered to hang back and make any repairs. A second wave of drones in on its way. Weâ€™ll be joining the main defense line.â€

â€œTravis, take us back behind the planet, 1/3 impulse,â€ said Archer, â€œCommander Tâ€™Pol, get down to engineering and get a full report from Commander Tucker.â€

Tâ€™Pol headed down through the dark corridors, the sound of full tactical alert ringing in her sensitive ears. The crew members she saw appeared deadly serious, running to their stations with great purpose.

She reached engineering and was relieved to see what appeared to be only minor damage. Trip was examining a member of his teamâ€™s wrist, which had a nasty plasma burn.

â€œGet to sickbay immediately,â€ he ordered. The ensign dashed off, and Trip looked up and saw Tâ€™Pol standing there. For a split second, she felt his relief at seeing her uninjured. Then, he was all business.

â€œReport, Commander,â€ she said.

â€œAll major systems are functioning. Minor damage to some of the conduits. Deck 4, Section 8 has a section of the hull that appears ready to buckle. Itâ€™s been evacuated and sealed off.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. The ship had come through better than she had expected. Of course, they were not at the center of the battle and had Earthâ€™s most experienced combat crew.

â€œThe drone that attacked us has been destroyed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œHowever, there is another wave of drones set to arrive within three hours.â€

â€œThatâ€™s enough time to repair everything,â€ said Trip.

â€œGood,â€ she said, â€œCarry on, Commander.â€

****

Two days later, Enterprise still orbited the mining colony, which had been fully taken over by the Alliance. Assault teams, including one of MACOs from Enterprise, were on the surfacing -securing every location. Two waves of warbirds and drone ships had been fought off but at a price. Two Vulcan cruisers, one Andorian ship and several small Tellarite vessels had been destroyed. One small earth battle cruiser had also been destroyed, though about half the crew had made it to the escape pods. Enterprise had picked up those humans and most of them were still aboard.

Trip, Tâ€™Pol and Archer dined that night in his mess.

â€œI think even the joint chiefs of the Alliance were surprised at how well we did,â€ said Archer, â€œbut then again the Romulans were the ones caught off guard this time.â€

Archer turned to Tâ€™Pol. The Vulcan ship that had been assigned to take Enme to Vulcan had been destroyed. Another one would be sent, but it was likely weeks away.

â€œMalcolm wants to question your brother, see if he can glean any intelligence from him now that it looks like heâ€™ll be with us for awhile.â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped on her water, her face a mask. Trip didnâ€™t sense any conflicted feelings in her. He sensed no feelings at all. He knew his wife still carried guilt from her emotional collapse during the battle at Azati Prime, so during times like this, she put her Vulcan nature into overdrive.

â€œIt would probably do no harm to attempt an interrogation,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut I would caution Mr. Reed at having any expectations. Vulcans are taught to take their own lives before giving key information to the enemy. It would be my guess that Romulans have a similar policy.â€

Trip looked at her, and he realized he didnâ€™t want to know what precisely she had been taught to do. The thought made him a little sick to his stomach.

â€œWell,â€ said Archer, â€œweâ€™ve got the time to research it for the next few days at least. Weâ€™re stationed here for the time being. The joint chiefs are going to try and make the best of our defensive position, for now, but holding this planet is key. The Alliance is also going to take possession of Hirku station.â€

â€œHasnâ€™t that place been neutral for years?â€ asked Trip.

Archer shrugged.

â€œIt seems to the joint chiefs that theyâ€™ve now got a choice to ally with us or the Romulans. We think its in their best interest to ally with us. A couple of Tellarite legions are going to board the station and make that clear to the them. Javon is currently handling negotiations to make the occupation goes smoothly.â€

Trip shook his head. Occupation. He never thought heâ€™d be on a side that would occupy anything, but then again The Romulans sounded like they would be way worse occupiers than the Alliance would be. Hopefully, the residents of the station would agree.

****

Far away in Romulan space, The ProConsul looked down at his screen and saw good news and bad news. There was an intelligence report that indicated no Starfleet officers had died in the explosion at the mines prior to the battle. If it was accurate, that meant his daughter still lived. The other piece of news wasnâ€™t so good. The Empire had suffered a defeat when trying to retake the mining colony from this new Alliance.

The ProConsul shook his head. The general who had ordered the attack would need to be dealt with. His impatience and overconfidence had led to this. If only his son Enme had been leading the charge.

The ProConsul swallowed his grief. Enme was gone, and there was no bringing him back. He needed to focus on the living members of the family, including the miserable little bastard that he now needed.

â€œSton,â€ he shouted.

Ston appeared in his dress clothes, the dapper look of them ruined by the green bruises around both eyes and his swollen lip. The boy had said nothing as the Remans had beaten him under his fatherâ€™s orders. He knew better.

â€œItâ€™s time to meet your bride. Letâ€™s hope sheâ€™s not disgusted at the sight of you the way I am,â€ said The ProConsul, â€œCome with me.â€

Ston followed his father into the next room.

****

â€œYou wanted to see me Lt. Commander Reed?â€ asked Hoshi, who had been officially summoned to the armory.

â€œYes, Lt. Sato,â€ said Malcolm formally, â€œI will be interrogating the Romulan prisoner. I believe it would be helpful for you to be present, as a speaker of Romulan. The UT shouldnâ€™t be trusted under such circumstances. However, the interrogation wonâ€™t be a pleasant process. You know we donâ€™t torture prisoners, but I have permission to drug him and apply considerable emotional pressure. Are you comfortable with that?â€

Hoshi swallowed. This was a man who had saved her life, and she knew exactly what he would be feeling. She had experienced it herself. On the other hand, they were at war, and there had already been hundreds of Alliance casualties.

Malcolm seemed to recognize the direction of her thoughts.

â€œWeâ€™re not the Xindi,â€ said Malcolm, â€œWe wonâ€™t harm him the way your were harmed. As I said, it wonâ€™t be a pleasant process, but we donâ€™t torture. I promise.â€

At that moment, Hoshi realized that he was speaking as her boyfriend as much as a ranking officer. Strangely, she found herself immensely grateful for their personal relationship. She trusted him.

â€œIâ€™ll be there, sir,â€ she said.

â€œGood,â€ he said, â€œDismissed, Lieutenant.â€

Hoshi and Malcolm locked eyes, and she turned and left the armory.

****

That night, Trip and Tâ€™Pol were seated on the floor of their quarters, meditating. Trip wasnâ€™t yet as advanced as she was, but she continued to be impressed by his progress. His concentration level was higher than she thought could be achieved by most humans, especially one as passionate as her husband.

_Itâ€™s all you, sweetie._

_What is?_

_The control. I borrow it from you._

_Donâ€™t underestimate yourself._

They were interrupted by a ring on the comm.

â€œSomeone wants to talk to one of us through subspace,â€ said Trip, as he pulled himself up off the floor and dashed over to the monitor on the desk. He sat down.

â€œPerhaps it is Soval,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œNope,â€ said Trip, â€œItâ€™s from Mississippi, North America. Itâ€™s either my Mom or Dad, I bet.â€

He tapped the controls a few times, and his fatherâ€™s face appeared on the screen.

â€œTrip,â€ said Charlie Tucker, â€œHow are you? We heard there was quite a skirmish a few days ago.â€

Trip cricked his neck.

â€œIt was more than that, Dad,â€ said Trip, â€œIt was a full scale battle. Has United Earth started calling it a war yet? Itâ€™s tough to get news way out here.â€

Tâ€™Pol stood up but kept herself a safe distance, so the imager on the monitor would not show her presence.

â€œBoth houses of the General Assembly are having an emergency session today. They are expected to declare war.â€

Trip inhaled. The General Assembly had never even formally declared war on the Xindi. This was the first time in United Earthâ€™s history that this had happened.

â€œHowâ€™s the mood?â€

â€œAfter all the attacks on ships and colonies in the last few months, people are almost grateful itâ€™s finally started. The waiting was worse somehow, especially since during the Xindi situation all we could do was wait. It feels like now weâ€™ve got allies and weâ€™re ready to defend ourselves. Donâ€™t get me wrong, people are scared. . .but they support the Alliance.â€

Trip felt relief surge through his body. Perhaps the days of Terra Prime-style xenophobia were behind them, now that everyone in the Alpha Quadrant had a common enemy.

â€œHowâ€™s the wife?â€ asked Charlie.

â€œWhy donâ€™t you ask her yourself?â€ replied Trip, who stood up and beckoned Tâ€™Pol to be seated.

She calmly did as he asked. She stared the the grey-haired man on the monitor, who resembled Trip.

â€œHello, Mr. Tucker,â€ she said, â€œIt is a pleasure to finally speak with you.â€

Charlie Tuckerâ€™s eyes widened. He had seen pictures of the Vulcan his son had married, but the monitor showed her to be more beautiful than he expected. Why he was surprised by this, he didnâ€™t know. He just hadnâ€™t expected a Vulcan to . . .be attractive.

â€œItâ€™s a pleasure to talk to you Tâ€™Pol. Iâ€™m sorry we havenâ€™t been able to meet you in person.â€

She nodded.

â€œNo slight was ever meant against you or your wife, but it is unacceptable,â€ she said, â€œWe shall endeavor to correct the insult as soon as we return to Earth.â€

Charlie hadnâ€™t expected that response. There wasnâ€™t any emotion in her voice; she was Vulcan after all. However, he sensed she was being honest.

â€œThatâ€™s okay, sweetie,â€ said Charlie, surprising himself, â€œWe just want to meet the lady that stole our sonâ€™s heart and welcome her to the family. Now that I see how pretty you are, I canâ€™t say I blame Trip.â€

Tâ€™Pol blinked. He was flattering her, and she didnâ€™t quite know what to make of it. Trip had been certain his parents wouldnâ€™t approve of her.

â€œElaine, honey,â€ shouted Charlie Tucker to someone else who was in the room, â€œCome meet your daughter-in-law over this subspace connection. It was nice to meet you, Tâ€™Pol.â€

â€œLikewise, Mr. Tucker.â€

Elaine Tucker then appeared on the screen.

â€œHello, Mrs. Tucker,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œHello, Tâ€™Pol,â€ she drawled, â€œItâ€™s . . itâ€™s nice to finally get to talk to you. Howâ€™s Trip?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked over at her husband, somewhat surprised at the question. Then again, she thought it was probably logical to inquire about a personâ€™s well-being with their mate.

â€œHe has come through the recent battle physically unscathed. He performed his duties well.â€

She paused. She sensed that her mother-in-law wanted to know that state of Tripâ€™s emotions.

â€œAlthough he is not happy at the recent turn of events, he is handling the situation well.â€

â€œWell, thatâ€™s good to hear my dear. Would you mind if I spoke with him?â€

â€œNot at all. It was agreeable to speak with you, Mrs. Tucker.â€

â€œYou too, my dear.â€ said Elaine tentatively, â€œTake good care of him, all right?â€™

Tâ€™Pol nodded before allowing Trip to take her place in front of the monitor.

â€œHi Mom,â€ said Trip.

Tâ€™Pol disappeared into the next room while Trip chatted with his mother. She heard him promise to eat right and exercise and be careful not to get himself into dangerous situations. That last piece of advice made her wonder if the woman knew her son at all.

****

Bala and Ston had made their way to the kitchen of his fatherâ€™s estate. Normally, servants brought them their food, but Bala retrieved a iced gel pack from the freezer and placed it on Stonâ€™s lips. She was tiny, even for a Romulan, only standing to Stonâ€™s shoulder. She had delicate hands, with silver-painted nails and long jet black hair that drifted down her shoulders.

â€œI canâ€™t believe that they did not allow you to ice your wound,â€ she said.

â€œThe point was for me to suffer,â€ said Ston.

â€œDonâ€™t talk,â€ whispered Bala, â€œLet me care for you.â€

Ston smiled at the girl, and suddenly he felt very lucky that his brother had died. Clearly, the gods were smiling on him.

Bala, too, was happy. Everything she had learned about Enme had terrified her. He seemed like he would not be willing to listen to her or do anything she said. No doubt, he would have deposited her in a house somewhere and made her raise babies. But Ston, he was an entirely different matter.

She had heard what he had done, all in the name of a sister that he had never met. That was loyalty. That was love. Now, she only needed to get him to love her the same way, and he would do anything for her.

She led him back up the stairs.

â€œTell me about your sister,â€ she asked, with as much innocence as she could effect in her voice.

Ston told the whole long story, in great detail. Bala listened, knowing that she would definitely be of use to Ston. He was incredibly stupid, but he was persistent, loyal and willing to do anything for his loved ones. That made him nearly perfect in her eyes. Now, she just had to win his heart.

â€œI know youâ€™re sister can be won to our side,â€ said Bala, â€œOnce we win this war, weâ€™ll bring her here, and I know sheâ€™ll never want to leave you again. How could she?â€

Stonâ€™s eyeâ€™s widened. He was very lucky, indeed.

***

That night, as Trip and Tâ€™Pol snuggled in bed, he spoke. Both were grateful that the battle was over and all was again quiet.

â€œI think they are warming to the idea of you,â€ said Trip, â€œWeâ€™ll definitely have to go and see them if we get back to Earth anytime soon.â€

Tâ€™Pol lifted her head up.

â€œWould they change their position regarding our marriage so suddenly?â€

Trip brushed her face with his palm.

â€œHumans arenâ€™t as stubborn as Vulcans, for the most part,â€ he said, â€œand if they want to see their son or any future grandchildren, they are going to have to accept you. They know it.â€

Tâ€™Pol relaxed back down next to him, and he put his arms around her.

â€œYou miss not having a child,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI miss baby Elizabeth,â€ he said, â€œbut I know now is not the time. But promise me when this war is over, youâ€™ll consider us having another baby?â€

She entwined her fingers into his.

â€œI have considered it. When the war is over, I promise we shall attempt to have another child.â€

â€œThen we have something to look forward to,â€ said Trip.

****

There was chime at Malcolmâ€™s door.

â€œCome in,â€ he said.

Hoshi strode through the door.

â€œI missed you at dinner tonight,â€ she said.

â€œI had chef bring food to the armory,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ve been busy.â€

Hoshi approached him.

â€œIt must be hard, having two jobs. Armory officer and Section 31 Operative.â€

Malcolm stood up, but he suppressed the denial on his lips. She was too smart for that, and he owed her the truth.

â€œAre you sure youâ€™re okay, being part of the interrogation tomorrow?â€

Hoshi looked away.

â€œItâ€™s complicated. He saved my life, and I like him. And he was very good to us when didnâ€™t have to be. . .and now weâ€™re going to subject him to. . . â€œ

Her voice shook.

Malcolm took her into his arms.

â€œIt wonâ€™t be like what happened to you,â€ he reiterated, â€œbut war is an unfair and ugly business. Weâ€™re doing this to save lives, remember. End this war quickly. That will be better for everyone, including him. Once the war is over, he can go home. . .now, are you sure you want to do this?â€

Hoshi stepped back from him.

â€œYes,â€ she said forcefully, â€œItâ€™s my job, and I can do it.â€

Malcolm placed his hands on her small shoulders.

â€œI know you can,â€ he said, â€œNow, can we talk about something else?â€

Hoshi felt very drawn to Malcolm, despite the reservations she had. He wasnâ€™t just the funny, kind man she had hooked up with on the station. He was an agent of Section 31, and it was his job to help end this war quickly. Something about that made her heart thump faster.

â€œMaybe we should just forgo the talking,â€ she suggested.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I dont own or profit from this.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: I donâ€™t own or profit from this.

Rating: R bordering on the NC-17 for R/S sex, harsh interrogation and angst

A/N: Hoshi & Malcolm arenâ€™t comic relief anymore.  


* * *

In answer to her playful suggestion, Malcolm strode across the room, and he pulled her into a hard, passionate kiss. He forced her mouth open with his tongue, and she responded with a small moan. She placed her hands on his shoulder to keep from swooning, and then let herself be completely overtaken. This wasnâ€™t friendship she was feeling from him, not this time.

His hands found the zipper of her jumpsuit, and he quickly pulled it down. He pushed the familiar garment off her shoulders, and then wrapped his hands around her small back - pulling her in closer to him.

â€œMalcolm. . .â€ she whispered, barely able to breathe.

â€œQuiet, love,â€ he ordered.

Love, she thought. He called her love. That frightened her. In the abstract, the notion had always frightened her. Now, with the world falling apart around them it was terrifying. And yet, she didnâ€™t want to run. . .not this time.

Malcolm pulled her grey tank over over head and pushed her on to his bunk, breaking their contact for a moment. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he slipped out of his own jumpsuit and boots so he was only in his Starfleet blues. Then, he pulled off her boots and the rest of her jumpsuit before joining her on the small bunk. He crawled on top of her, his lips finding her neck and nuzzling her. Hoshi wanted to speak, but she held back. He was clearly enjoying the silence.

His right hand found its way to the waistband of her grey shorts and gently pushed its way under the fabric. His finger brushed between her legs, before moving down and slipping inside her. Hoshi bit her lip and closed her eyes. Without removing his fingers, which were deftly stroking her, Malcolm crawled downward, planting kisses along the way. He then pushed down her shorts down her bent legs and off before he crawled up pressed his tongue right at the center of her. His fingers and tongue worked in concert with each other until he felt her muscles spasm, and she gave a soft scream.

He gently removed his fingers and licked them, watching her recover for a bit before climbing up on top of her. He gave her a deep, open-mouthed kiss, making sure she could taste herself on his lips. He pressed his erection, which was still confined in his briefs, against her taut stomach. She helped him pull his his tank over his head, brushing her hands over the bare skin of his chest.

He kissed her again, and she pushed his shorts down, finally freeing his erection. She wiggled upwards and spread her legs, helping him slip inside her.

He locked his eyes with hers, and they both felt the connection that happened that first, platonic night on the station. He started thrusting, then reached down to see if he could make her come again. His fingers moved with concentrated determination, until they found success and she became limp and quivering. He then pushed on until he joined her.

A few minutes later, she looked up and began to speak again but she stopped. Instead, she settled into his arms and soon fell quickly asleep.

****

Enme was bored out of his mind. He paced the small cabin where he was confined, and occasionally peered out the window to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything interesting.

Although he had been relatively well treated, he had decided that hearing a battle rage all around him and not being able to participate did count as a kind of torture. He also found himself rather conflicted. He was happy to be alive, that was certain. Yet, he was both disappointed and concerned that his people had lost the battle for the mining colony. Such losses were rare. It occurred to him that his people may have underestimated the Alliance that they were now facing.

_If we, as a people have a flaw,_ he thought, _it is overconfidence._

The chime rang.

â€œYou may enter,â€ he shouted.

His sister, dressed in her Starfleet uniform, walked in the door followed by a steward.

â€œIf you donâ€™t mind,â€ she said, â€œI would like to join you for breakfast.â€

â€œBy all means,â€ said Enme politely gesturing to the small table in the corner, â€œI could use the company.â€

The steward placed a bowl of Plomeek soup at Tâ€™Polâ€™s place and a plate of pancakes at Enmeâ€™s. He also served them each a cup of Vulcan tea, and glasses of orange juice. Enme had come to enjoy the human fruit juice and had requested it every morning. After the steward had left, the siblings sat down at the cramped table.

â€œAre you being treated well?â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Enme sipped his orange juice.

â€œVery,â€ he said, â€œApart from the small confines.â€

â€œThis cabin is larger than the brig,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI donâ€™t doubt it,â€ said Enme, â€œand Iâ€™l wager it is more comfortable, too. I do love this orange juice."

â€œMy husband grew up in an Earth region famous for its oranges,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œEven on Earth, they only grow in certain climates and are considered a great delicacy.â€

â€œI would love to try the fruit itself,â€ said Enme, â€œCould you arrange that?â€

â€œCommander Tucker has some in stasis. I will ask him to gift you with one,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œThank him for me, assuming he agrees.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, and she sipped her tea.

â€œTell me,â€ he said, â€œHow did you end up married to a human? My understanding is that Vulcans rarely couple with off worlders.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow at the very personal question.

â€œYou can tell me. We are family, after all.â€

â€œIt is simple,â€ she said, â€œWe served together on this ship, and we found each otherâ€™s company agreeable.â€

â€œBut according to your dossier, you were married to a Vulcan for a time.â€

Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t react to the fact that he knew such personal information about her, she simply took a sip of her soup.

â€œThat was in name only,â€ she said, â€œand I had already bonded with Commander Tucker so the marriage was invalid from the beginning.â€

â€œHow romantic,â€ said Enme.

â€œIt didnâ€™t seem so at the time,â€ responded Tâ€™Pol, recalling those unhappy days.

â€œOur father wishes me to marry a Romulan girl from another patrician family in order to create a political alliance. Sheâ€™s practically a child.â€

â€œHave you met her?â€ said Tâ€™Pol, sympathetically.

â€œNo,â€ said Enme.

â€œPerhaps you will find her agreeable.â€

Enme chewed on a bit of blueberry pancake.

â€œNot likely,â€ said Enme, â€œI tend to enjoy women. . .not girls.â€

â€œSheâ€™ll eventually become a woman,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œThatâ€™s a good way of looking at it, sister,â€ said Enme, â€œOf course, since Iâ€™m now a prisoner, I donâ€™t have to worry about it until this war between our people ends. Tell me, will I be kept on this ship for the duration?â€

Tâ€™Pol shook her head.

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œYou will be likely taken to Vulcan and held there. They will treat you fairly.â€

â€œMaybe it will give me a chance to discover my peopleâ€™s roots before I am rescued,â€ said Enme.

â€œYou would do well to embrace logic,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Enme sighed. The logical thing was to accept his situation, but Romulans were not logical.

â€œCongratulations on your victory, by the way,â€ said Enme, â€œI have been pleasantly surprised to find myself alive these last few days.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œWe fully expect to survive all the coming battles,â€ she said, â€œIn fact, the Alliance will no doubt approach you with idea of helping us open negotiations with your people. It will serve neither side to have a long, drawn-out conflict in which no territory is gained.â€

â€œDonâ€™t underestimate us, sister,â€ Enme said.

â€œYour people clearly made that mistake regarding our side a few days ago,â€ she said, â€œSo itâ€™s good advice all around.â€

â€œOn that we can agree,â€ said Enme, â€œNow letâ€™s change the subject to something more pleasant. Iâ€™ve had blueberries and strawberries. I wish to try oranges. Are there any other human delicacies you can recommend?â€

****

Archer sat back and looked at Malcolm.

â€œIâ€™m not comfortable keeping this from her,â€ said the Captain.

â€œThis interrogation will happen on a need to know basis. You need to know. I need to know. Phlox needs to know. Two of my security officers need to know and Hoshi needs to know. Thatâ€™s already too many people. Besides, heâ€™s Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother. Vulcan or not, sheâ€™s going to have sympathy for him. Both Vulcans and Romulans value blood connections.â€

Archer shook his head.

â€œShe might be able to help,â€ he said, â€œand I donâ€™t want her to think we donâ€™t trust her.â€

â€œItâ€™s your call, sir,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œWhat about Hoshi?â€ said Archer, â€œShe seemed to like the guy at dinner. Is she going to be okay with this?â€

Malcolm showed no sign of personal interest when Hoshiâ€™s name came up. In this, he would have done any Vulcan proud.

â€œIâ€™ve spoken with her, twice, and she is ready to do her job.â€

Archer nodded.

â€œWhen are you going to proceed?â€

â€œ1300 hours,â€ said Malcolm, â€œThe armory will be sealed off at that time.â€

â€œKeep me posted,â€ said Archer, â€œand I want to see your report as soon as it is complete.â€

â€œYes, sir.â€

****

Tâ€™Pol arrived in Archerâ€™s ready room a half hour later. She reacted to the news that they would be interrogating her brother for Romulan battle plans like a Vulcan. She showed no reaction.

â€œI know this canâ€™t be easy,â€ said Archer.

â€œItâ€™s neither easy or hard,â€ responded Tâ€™Pol, â€œIt is necessary. I am sure Mr. Reed will behave according to Starfleet protocols.â€

Archer bit his lip, remembering his own bending and breaking of Starfleet protocols in The Expanse. He hoped that Malcolm wouldnâ€™t be pushed so far, although the stakes seemed just as high.

â€œIâ€™m sure he will,â€ said Archer, hoping she didnâ€™t hear the doubt in his voice. â€œAlso, tell Commander Tucker of this. Heâ€™s the only senior officer not yet informed, and I want him kept in the loop as well.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, who was puzzled by this order. She thought perhaps that Archer simply didnâ€™t want to put her in the position of keeping a secret from Trip. Or perhaps he knew that they didnâ€™t keep secrets. Or maybe he just hoped Trip would be able to help her deal with the situation. In any case, she was grateful.

â€œDismissed,â€ said Archer.

Tâ€™Pol got up and wordlessly returned to her post. Before she knew what was happening, her mind wandered to her time being held by the Suliban and the torturous drugs that had coursed through her system. She hadnâ€™t given them any information, but that was primarily due to the fact that she had none to give. She hoped Section 31 had more humane methods, although even if they did, she had great sympathy for her brother.

****

At noon, Tâ€™Pol met Trip in the mess hall for lunch. They dined in a quiet corner, where no one could hear their conversation.

â€œWhy wasnâ€™t I told of this before?â€

â€œAt first, it was a need to know operation. However, Captain Archer believes all senior officers need to know,â€ she replied.

Trip didnâ€™t respond, just kept eating.

â€œHowâ€™d it go at breakfast?â€ he asked a few minutes later. He stared down at his food, knowing full well that he wouldnâ€™t find the truth in her face. He needed to access her mind while she spoke to find out the truth. He had started to learn to do that without even touching her.

â€œHe was in an agreeable mood,â€ she said, â€œbut I do believe that he would escape if he could. However, I donâ€™t believe he would destroy the ship with himself on it. He seems to value his own life too much.â€

â€œWeâ€™ll see if that changes,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™m sure Malcolm will put extra people on security after today.â€

Trip sensed concern for her brother behind the Vulcan mask. It was deep in her mind, but it was there. A combination of her Vulcan sense of honor and a budding familial affection for the Romulan was buried under all that control. Trip had not sensed any affection for her father or the other brother, so this was a new development.

As his wife changed the subject to the status of the warp drive, he decided to ask the the captain to get the Romulan transferred off the ship as soon as possible.

****

Hoshi arrived at the armory fifteen minutes before the procedure was to begin. She saw a bio bed had been placed there, and Phlox was monitoring some equipment. Malcolm didnâ€™t look at her as she walked into the room.

â€œThe two guards have gone to get our subject,â€ said Malcolm, without meeting her eyes.

â€œHello, Phlox,â€ said Hoshi.

The doctor smiled at her, reassuringly. Although Phlox would not be performing the procedure and was only there if something went wrong, he knew he had the strictest of medical ethics. He wouldnâ€™t be here if it was going to be like it was with the Xindi. She believed that.

She looked down at the hyposprays that were lined along a tray next to the biobed. They were a series of drugs designed to heighten serotonin levels and intoxicate the patient. The idea was that he would simply answer any questions asked, and hopefully the experience would be pleasant for him. But the drugs were powerful, and Vulcans were very adept at resisting them. Malcolm was operating on the assumption that a Romulan would also be resistant.

Hoshi looked up when she heard the door open. Enme stood there between the two guards. He saw the set up, and since he was no fool recognized what was about to happen.

He made a move against one of the guards and quickly subdued him, but the other already had reached for his phase pistol and soon stunned the prisoner. They carried him to the biobed and strapped him down. Malcolm immediately picked up a stimulant hypospray and revived him.

Enmeâ€™s eyes fluttered open.

â€œI knew your politeness was just a facade,â€ he said to Malcolm, and then he turned to Hoshi and looked her straight in the eye, â€œbut you I am disappointed in, my dear.â€

Hoshi felt herself choking up. She reminded herself that while what they were doing was a violation, the procedure was designed to be painless. She sucked up her reservations and guilt, and she sat down at the recording station.

Malcolm administered the first round of the drugs.

****

Late that night, Tâ€™Pol, wearing civilian clothes rather than her jumpsuit, strode forcefully through the halls clutching a small bag in her hands. She found her way to her brotherâ€™s room, and she asked the guards to open the door.

â€œWe donâ€™t know if heâ€™s awake, yet, Commander,â€ said one of the guards.

â€œI shall see for myself,â€ she stated.

She walked into the dimly lit cabin, and saw her brother sprawled on the bunk, most of the green gone from his complexion. He appeared to be sleeping. So, she carefully approached the table and removed an orange from her bag. She placed it there, but it rolled toward the edge. So, she returned it to the bag, and she placed the bag on the table with the orange inside.

â€œHow are you, sister?â€

The voice was a whisper.

â€œI am well. May I ask how you are?â€

â€œGroggy,â€ he said, â€œand I donâ€™t remember anything after the first hypospray. Iâ€™m curious to find out if I was helpful to your cause or managed to resist. Do you happen to know?â€

Tâ€™Pol turned around, the bag in her hand.

â€œMr. Reed has not yet completed his report,â€ she replied.

â€œWould you do me the favor of telling me whatâ€™s in it?â€ he asked, â€œI want to know if I should throw myself out the airlock.â€

â€œThat would be a painful way to accomplish oneâ€™s own death,â€ she stated, â€œand besides, I will not be able to inform you of the contents of the report.â€

Enme sat up.

â€œItâ€™s all a blank. . . .you know, I wasnâ€™t prepared for this. Normally, we Romulans donâ€™t bother interrogating prisoners.â€

â€œThat seems foolish,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand illogical.â€

Enme shrugged.

â€œNot if your strategy is outgun everyone and pound them into bloody oblivion until they surrender. . . .thatâ€™s not a state secret by the way. And by the way, the airlock will be way more pleasant than whatever awaits me if I gave any key information to your people.â€

Tâ€™Pol stepped forward, taking the orange out of the bag. From its color, Enme recognized it immediately.

â€œThank you, and thank your husband for me,â€ he said, taking the fruit.

â€œI will do that,â€ she said, â€œHe was happy to oblige my request. You donâ€™t consume the outer peel, only the wedges inside.â€

Enme broke open the peel and inhaled the fresh citrus scent.

â€œItâ€™s acidic, like the juice,â€ he said.

â€œYes,â€ she replied, â€œif thereâ€™s nothing else. . .â€

Enme didnâ€™t say anything for a moment. He just carefully ate one of the wedges, savoring each bit.

â€œWould you stay a bit longer and keep me company?â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ll share with you.â€

He held out the fruit toward her. She thought of telling him that Vulcans didnâ€™t eat food with their hands, but instead she took a wedge and sat down at the table.

â€œWould you like me to tell you what our father was like, when he wasnâ€™t pretending to be a Vulcan?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, and her brother smiled at her.

â€œWell, as you can imagine. . .he was quite a powerful figure. . .once when I was about eleven Romulan years old. . .just a little thing, he showed up at my school for a conference. . well, apparently he didnâ€™t like what the teacher said because the next day . ..the poor man was transferred to an outer colony. . .can you imagine? Thatâ€™s when I figured out how different our family was. . .â€

Tâ€™Pol sat back and listened for a long while. Eventually, Enme drifted back to sleep.

****

Tâ€™Pol returned to her quarters a few minutes later, knowing Trip waited for her.

â€œYou were gone way too long,â€ he said.

He clearly had been pacing their quarters the entire time. He wore the t-shirt and boxers that he usually slept in, but he hadnâ€™t honored her request to go to sleep without her.

â€œHe wished to have company,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI provided it until he fell asleep again.â€

If Trip had been worried earlier, he was more worried now.

â€œThat was kind of you,â€ he said, beckoning her toward the bedroom.

He laid down on the bed, and she changed into her silk pajamas. She crawled up next to him and put her head on his chest. He traced the outline of her ear with his fingers.

â€œHe believes that whatever he revealed, he will be killed if he returns to the Empire.â€

Trip continued to stroke her ears, but he applied more pressure.

â€œItâ€™s because of things like that that we have to fight this war so hard,â€ said Trip, â€œThe Romulans are barbarians, no matter how polite they are or how good their ale is. All of us in this alliance are better than they are. We would never kill one of our people for talking the way he did. . .probably did. We would have compassion. Think about what happened to Hoshi. Did anyone blame her? Everyone admired her for resisting as hard as she did.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. Everything Trip said was true. He was a wise man, and he had made her feel better. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth, sweetly at first and then more aggressively.

â€œAre you too tired to engage in sexual relations, husband?â€ she inquired.

He grinned.

â€œIâ€™m never too tired for that,â€ he said, his hands migrating down to her rear end.

â€œIâ€™m glad of it,â€ she said, as her hands migrated to the waistband of his shorts and then lower.

No, he didnâ€™t seem too tired at all.

****

Hoshi was alone in her quarters, curled in her bunk and staring out at the stars. She had not even asked to see Malcolm, whom she knew was working on the report. Everything had gone perfectly. Romulans, it seemed, lacked the mental discipline of their Vulcan cousins. Enme had appeared un-traumatized by the procedure and had answered every one of Malcolmâ€™s questions in vivid detail.

As much as she was glad that he hadnâ€™t been physically harmed, Hoshi knew the mental damage they had done to him. There wasnâ€™t a day that went by that she didnâ€™t regret giving the Xindi reptilians the code information, despite the fact that they had stopped the weapon in time. She still regretted that she hadnâ€™t been able to take her own life that day, and on her worst days, she considered doing just that to make up for what she had done.

So, she understood that, torture or not, she had destroyed a person that day - a person who had saved her life. As the tears came, she hoped that it was worth it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I dont own this world.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: I donâ€™t own this world.

Rating: R for sex, angst and war.

A/N: In this chapter, we get some Archer/Hernandez plus the usual TnT stuff and some Hoshi/Malcolm angst.  


* * *

A week later, Enterpriseâ€™s command crew met on the bridge. It had been relatively quiet around the mining colony, though a small battle between three Andorian ships and two Romulan drones had been fought in the last week. Only one Andorian ship had escaped.

â€œWeâ€™ve been recalled to Earth,â€ said Archer to his senior staff, â€œWeâ€™ll be heading home for a few weeks after The Columbia arrives to relieve us. Weâ€™ll debrief them, and then weâ€™re off.â€

Trip leaned forward.

â€œWhy are we being taken out of the action?â€ he asked.

â€œItâ€™s not like that,â€ said Archer, â€œThey want to refit and upgrade our weapons at Jupiter station, and theyâ€™ve got plans for this ship that donâ€™t include guarding a colony. Youâ€™ll all be informed of the details when we get to Starfleet command.â€

â€œWhat about our prisoner?â€ asked Malcolm, â€œWhen are we going hand him over to the Vulcans?â€

â€œWeâ€™ll make the transfer when we get to Earth,â€ replied Archer.

Trip glanced very quickly at Tâ€™Pol, but her face showed no reaction, as usual. They could have been talking about an engine part.

â€œThe Columbia will be here in two days,â€ said Archer, â€œEveryone should have reports on surface operations ready. The MACOs already stationed on the colony will remain. Dismissed everyone.â€

With that, the officers all headed toward their stations, all business.

****

Later than night, Tâ€™Pol and Enme played chess in his cabin.

â€œI believe Iâ€™ll checkmate you in five moves, brother,â€ she said.

Enme sighed. He examined the board and saw that she was correct. He also saw his mistake had been made four moves earlier. He made a mental note and resolved to never make that particular mistake again.

â€œI knew there was a reason you suggested this human game. Logic is a key component.â€

â€œAs is military-style strategy, which I assumed would give you an equal advantage. No doubt my easy victory came from experience, rather than superior natural ability. My guess is after a few more games, we shall be equally matched.â€

Enme knocked over his king in supplication.

â€œYou flatter me,â€ he said.

â€œVulcans donâ€™t flatter. We are merely honest,â€ she replied as she set up the pieces again and placed the game on the shelf.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ said Enme, â€œMay I ask you favor?â€

She sat back down.

â€œYou know that depends on the favor.â€

â€œI need you to help me take my own life. Take me to the airlock, bring me poison. . .shoot me yourself.â€

Tâ€™Pol did not react, and she was not surprised. Her brother had been hinting around about his desire for death for days, ever since he had realized that he hadnâ€™t been able to resist his interrogation. Tâ€™Pol had refused to answer his queries on the subject one way or another, but her lack of reassurance, and the fact that Malcolm had not tried to question him again pointed him toward the truth.

â€œYou know I canâ€™t do that,â€ she said, â€œand if you persist in bringing up the subject, weâ€™ll have to remove the sheets and blankets from your bed and any other implements you might use to accomplish such a goal.â€

Enme kicked the table in frustration.

â€œIs that out of concern for me or because Iâ€™m too valuable to your alliance?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œBoth.â€

â€œYou must understand that if I return to my people, Iâ€™m a dead man. Among your people - human or Vulcan - Iâ€™m a prisoner. What kind of future do I have?â€

He had spoken with a most nonchalant tone. After all, death was an every day companion to a soldier like Enme. Tâ€Pol shrugged. She also recognized from several of his remarks, even if he did not, that he was grateful to be alive. She hoped that part of his nature would win out in the end.

â€œPerhaps you could find a home for yourself on one of the many multi-species stations or colonies in this region of space. Hirku station seemed like an idea place for a person in your situation to settle. Perhaps you would even find it - liberating.â€

Enme sat back.

â€œDo you really think I would ever be released?â€

â€œOnce the war is over,â€ she said, â€œIt is very likely.â€

Enme stayed quiet for awhile. Such mercy for oneâ€™s enemy was outside his frame of reference.

â€œDo you know if they plan on questioning me again?â€ he asked.

Tâ€™Pol shook her head, and she stood up to leave.

â€œDo you have any special requests for the evening meal?â€

Enme smiled.

â€œWhatever your magnificent chef has prepared will be just fine. But if Captain Archer is willing to share some of his bourbon, I wouldnâ€™t object.â€

â€œIâ€™ll ask him,â€ said Tâ€™Pol as she exited.

****

Starfleetâ€™s two senior NX class captains were out of uniform. In fact, they were both completely naked in the captainâ€™s quarters of the NX-02. Archer had Erika held up against the bulkhead, and he was thrusting inside her at just the right angle to drive her crazy. She had her legs wrapped around his hips and was bracing her feet on the back of his legs.

â€œOh my god, Jon,â€ she whispered, â€œDo not stop now. . .â€

He said nothing, just continued at his work until she couldnâ€™t say anything and just melted in his arms. A minute or so later, he collapsed against her, while using his weight to keep her propped up. She put her head on his shoulder and sighed deeply.

Finally, he put her on her feet and she led him to the bed, where they sprawled down together.

â€œThat was the best tactical briefing Iâ€™ve ever had,â€ she laughed.

â€œI wonder if your first officer is wondering where you are,â€ breathed Archer.

â€œMine isnâ€™t as nosy as yours,â€ laughed Erika, â€œAlthough _I wonder_ if weâ€™ve broken any regulations.â€

Jon rolled through the various regs on fraternization in his head. Then, he rolled through the rules on breaks while on duty.

â€œNope,â€ he said, â€œYouâ€™re just not allowed to screw your subordinate. And Captains are allowed to take breaks during the day, as needed.â€

Erika rested her head on one elbow and massaged one of Jonâ€™s calves with her small foot.

â€œSpeaking of which,â€ she said, â€œwhatâ€™s it been like having your two senior officers married?â€

â€œA hell of a lot easier than it was when they were dating,â€ replied Jon, â€œIt was the on again off again thing that was the hassle.â€

Erika grinned.

â€œI remember,â€ she replied, â€œI knew it was too good to be true to get Tucker aboard The Columbia.â€

Jon rolled his eyes, remembering those days.

â€œYou wouldnâ€™t believe them now. They work totally in synch with one another. If Starfleet has any reservations about married officers, those two will certainly help put them to rest.â€

Erika smiled.

â€œThatâ€™s nice, actually. A few of my officers have paired off, though they donâ€™t realize Iâ€™ve noticed. My first officer takes every excuse he can get to run down to sickbay and see the doctor. He delivers PADDs down there and doesnâ€™t think Iâ€™ve figured out that heâ€™s looking to see the doctor.â€

â€œI thought your doctor was a male...oh, wow. . . .No regulations against that, either.â€

Erika giggled.

â€œStarfleet is based in San Francisco, Jon. I donâ€™t know why you are so surprised.â€

He laughed.

â€œI shouldnâ€™t be,â€ he said, â€œIn fact, two of my female crewman are a couple.â€

â€œDo you think the Romulans are tolerant of different sexualities?â€ she asked.

â€œI donâ€™t know,â€ he said, knowing he couldnâ€™t reveal that he had one on his ship, even to Erika, â€œOn the one hand, they are apparently very decadent and pleasure-seeking. On the other hand, they also seem to have strict social protocols. Itâ€™s a toss up. . .and frankly, I hope we never find out. I want to beat them back into their quadrant and never worry about what they think of anything again. . . .do you have any booze? I could use a drink.â€

Erika looked up at the chronometer, and she looked at Jon carefully.

â€œSex during the day shift I can do. But not booze,â€ she said as if it was a question.

He sighed.

â€œFor a moment, I forgot how early it was,â€ he said, â€œYouâ€™re right. Itâ€™s a bad idea on during oneâ€™s shift.â€

She nodded, reassured.

â€œCâ€™mon,â€ she said, â€œWe can save time if we make use of the captainâ€™s shower together.â€

****

The next day, Tâ€™Pol sat across from Archer in his ready room. Archer was looking out the window, his hands behind his back. He felt sad about what he was going to say, for a number of reasons, even though it was essentially good news.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ he said, â€œremember when you joined Starfleet, and you said that you didnâ€™t think it was appropriate for a Vulcan to have permanent command of a human starship?â€

She nodded. This had been at her suggestion. She had no desire to captain a human ship, only to serve on one.

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m being promoted to Admiral. Iâ€™ll be stationed on the new, large battle cruiser The Cochran with command of her as well as five of the smaller battleships.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded again. Since the Xindi attack, Earth had fast-tracked the construction of two new kinds of warships, the large, slow battle cruiser and the small, swift battleship.

â€œEnterprise will also be part of my fleet, until the war ends. Hopefully after that, she can go back to exploring,â€ he continued.

Tâ€™Pol nodded. Such big changes were expected in a time of war. As the hero of the Xindi conflict, Archer was an appropriate choice for promotion.

â€œStarfleet wants to make Trip captain of the Enterprise,â€ said Archer, turning to look at her.

Tâ€™Pol did not react.

â€œThey also think youâ€™re still the best person to be her first officer,â€ said Archer, â€œSince they assume you two wouldnâ€™t want to be stationed apart from one another.â€

â€œNo, we would not,â€ she said.

â€œYouâ€™ve always had seniority over Trip. Now heâ€™s going to be your CO. Given how well you two have done working together so far, Starfleet believes you can handle this. Can you?â€

â€œOf course, Captain,â€ she said.

â€œGood. And weâ€™re not telling Trip until we get to Earth. Can you keep this a secret from him?â€

That took Tâ€™Pol aback. Archer knew about the bond, and thus he should have had an inkling of how difficult that will be.

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œAlthough he will be annoyed. I will not be able to keep the fact that I am keeping a secret that concerns him from him.â€

Archer smiled, very happy that he wasnâ€™t caught up in some weird Vulcan telepathic relationship. Sometimes, he was envious of Trip but not at the moment.

â€œIâ€™ll miss this ship,â€ sighed Archer, â€œand Iâ€™ll miss seeing you and Trip and everyone every day, but weâ€™ll be in constant communication while Enterprise is in my fleet. There will even be regular meetings aboard The Cochran.â€

â€œI shall miss working with you each day,â€ she said, sincerely.

â€œLife is about change,â€ sighed Archer.

****

Malcolm rang Hoshiâ€™s door. They hadnâ€™t seen each other in days, and he sensed it wasnâ€™t just because they were both busy.

â€œCome in,â€ she said softly.

As the door opened, he saw her sitting in a chair looking out at the stars. He walked in and closed the door behind him, but he didnâ€™t move much further than that. He leaned back against the door. He sensed a great coolness from her.

â€œAre you okay?â€ he asked.

She turned and looked at him.

â€œIâ€™m fine,â€ she said.

â€œThen youâ€™re worried about our prisoner,â€ he said.

â€œHe has a name,â€ she said, â€œHeâ€™s a person as well as a prisoner, and he will never be able to return to his people thanks to what we did.â€

â€œThatâ€™s hardly our fault,â€ said Malcolm, â€œWe would not treat someone in such a fashion.â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œWeâ€™d just let them live with the guilt.â€

Malcolm knew immediately to what she was referring. He wanted to kick himself for ever allowing her to be a part of something that would dredge up her memories of being held captive by the Xindi.

He walked over and knelt beside her chair. He made no move to touch her or even look at her. He just stared out at the same stars that she stared out at.

â€œIâ€™m glad you survived,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™d miss you if you were no longer here. I would have before but especially now.â€

She turned her head to look at him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didnâ€™t. She just turned back and stared out at the stars. After a long while, he got up and left without saying a word.

****

A couple hours later, Malcolm was working with Trip in the armory, getting things organized for the coming upgrades.

â€œHowâ€™s Hoshi?â€ asked Trip.

Malcolm looked up.

â€œRumors get around a ship pretty quick,â€ said Trip, â€œPhlox heard from Cutler and he told Hess, who saw you leaving her quarters a few mornings back. Plus Hoshi told Tâ€™Pol while they were being held on the surface.â€

Malcolm calibrated the canon he was working on.

â€œDo you two having any secrets?â€

â€œJust a very few,â€ said Trip, â€œit takes some concentration, but itâ€™s possible. You never answered my question. Last time I saw Hoshi, she looked like hell. Did you have anything to do with that?â€

Malcolm heard the accusation in his friendâ€™s voice.

â€œIn a round about way,â€ said Malcolm, â€œShe feels guilty over the interrogation. She likes the prisoner. More than your wife does, it would seem.â€

Trip recognized the jealousy in Malcolmâ€™s voice. So, Malcolm had also sensed what Trip had at the dinner table. At least, that meant Malcolm cared about Hoshi and wasnâ€™t just using her like he had all those women he had written letters to way back when they had been trapped in the shuttlepod together. He decided to give Malcolm some advice.

â€œThe guyâ€™s charming. The guyâ€™s mysterious. The guy saved her life. And the guyâ€™s in a sympathetic situation,â€ said Trip.

Malcolm threw down his scanner in frustration.

â€œThe guyâ€™s also unattainable,â€ said Trip.

â€œYou are not making me feel better,â€ snapped Malcolm.

â€œThe worst thing you can do is push her toward him by being an ass,â€ said Trip, â€œMaybe you should just offer to spend some time with her while weâ€™re on Earth.â€

They all had leave coming up, during the refit.

â€œJust remember,â€ said Trip, â€œYouâ€™re the spy guy. Youâ€™re British. And youâ€™re not going to spend the next few years rotting in a Vulcan jail. Youâ€™ve got plenty of pluses in your column.â€

Malcolm went back to work. He wanted to tell Trip that his jealousy was only a small part of the issue, that Hoshi was still dealing with her own traumas. But Malcolm held his tongue. It wasnâ€™t Tripâ€™s business. It wasnâ€™t anyoneâ€™s business but hers, and his business now that he knew. Malcolm resolved to help her in any way he could. He cared deeply for her, and it was his duty to help her.

****

Trip and Tâ€™Pol found time to dine together in the mess hall, then they each went their separate ways for an hour or two. Trip went back to engineering, and she went back to the bridge. They were a good match, in that they were both workaholics. But Trip made her promise that she would meet him back at their quarters by 2100 hours. She agreed, and they both arrived nearly at the same time.

â€œDo you want some tea?â€ he asked, knowing how she liked her chamomile before meditation.

â€œThat would be agreeable husband,â€ she said as she sat down on the couch.

Trip began to brew the tea, and he chatted about things in engineering.

â€œOh,â€ he said, â€œI spoke with the first officer on The Columbia. Hernandez and Archer disappeared for an hour and a half this afternoon. Private Captainâ€™s meeting. In her quarters,â€ said Trip.

Tâ€™Pol leaned forward.

â€œYou believe they had sexual relations,â€ she stated.

â€œItâ€™s possible. They used to be an item,â€ he said, â€œYears back. I think they started things up again after The Expanse for time.â€

â€œI hope they find each otherâ€™s company agreeable,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Trip had many times wondered if he should look up the word agreeable in a thesaurus, since Vulcans liked it so much.

â€œAnd meanwhile, thereâ€™s something sour between Malcolm and Hoshi,â€ said Trip, â€œbut I havenâ€™t given up on those two yet.â€

He brought her her tea. She stared at him, ever fascinated by humansâ€™ interest in each otherâ€™s matings.

â€œI hope Malcolm and Hoshi work things out,â€ she said.

Trip stared at her, sipping his own tea. He couldnâ€™t believe heâ€™d gotten used to chamomile, as it was better than Vulcan tea.

â€œIâ€™ve arranged for our travel to Mississippi,â€ he said, â€œWeâ€™ll leave three days after we get to headquarters.â€

He knew she felt like they had slighted his parents, and she was grateful for the chance to make up for it. But he also knew that she wasnâ€™t looking forward to the visit. He gently took her hand and probed her mind for the reason.

He realized that she didnâ€™t want to be the cause of friction between him and his parents, and she especially didnâ€™t want to be the source of any pain for him. He felt the guilt well up in her for all the things that had happened in the past.

â€œDonâ€™t worry,â€ he said, â€œThey are already warming to the idea of you. It will be fine, and now that the Vulcans are our allies in this war, a lot of that old tension is past. . . .â€

Trip concentrated more fully. He sensed she was blocking him.

â€œWhat are you keeping from me?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked him in the eye.

â€œI canâ€™t tell you. You will be informed when we get to Earth,â€ she said.

â€œWhat would Starfleet tell you right away that they wonâ€™t tell me until we get to Earth?â€

He clutched at her hand and probed deeper with his mind. She blocked him well, but he still got some things.

â€œItâ€™s a Starfleet thing. A big thing. What is it?â€

â€œTrip,â€ she said, â€œDonâ€™t make me violate an order to keep quiet about this. Protocol dictates that I not tell you. If it were important that you know now, I promise I would . . .please, I must be the first officer and not your wife in this.â€

Trip squinted at her. She was being honest. He hated secrets, but he understood.

â€œYou sure they are gonna tell me?â€

She nodded.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything.

Rating: PG-13  


* * *

Trip couldnâ€™t believe his eyes. Everything in San Francisco looked the same to him. Besides that, it was beautiful, clear day. The Golden Gate shown brightly in the sun as a blur of tourists walked across her. Sea lions were sunbathing themselves on rocks in the bay, and seagulls flew overhead, as did a series of bright colored kites. Nothing appeared to be wrong. The mood felt light, as breezy as the bay itself. It was surreal.

When the Xindi attacked, it felt like something had happened. Tourists were few and people didnâ€™t smile. But the Xindi had attacked Earth directly, not a few ships dozens of lightyears away.

Trip wondered unhappily what it would take to make people understand the seriousness of the situation. Would the Romulans have to attack Earth directly?

His communicator chirped.

â€œAdmirals Williams and Admiral Archer will see you now, Sir,â€ said the voice of Williamsâ€™s assistant.

_Admiral?_ thought Trip, slightly shocked. Then he thought about it some more. _Of course, that would make sense. Good for Jon._

Trip headed into the office, trying not to think about what this would mean for him. Would this mean there would be a new Captain? He swallowed his nervousness and put on his best formal, Starfleet posture as he headed into the big office. There stood Admirals Williams and Leonard, and Archer was there with new pips on his uniform.

â€œCongratulations, Capt. . .Admiral. . .â€ said Trip, smiling and standing at attention.

â€œAt ease, Commander,â€ said Archer, also smiling, â€œOr as I should probably say, Captain.â€

Trip looked at him, incredulous.

â€œYouâ€™re kiddin?â€

â€œDo I look like Iâ€™m kidding, Captain?â€ replied Archer, who approached Trip and pinned a new pip on his uniform, â€œWeâ€™re going to have to get you some gold stripes before Enterprise leaves space dock.â€

Trip blinked, then he understood.

â€œThank you, Admiral,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m honored.â€

â€œI wouldnâ€™t leave Enterprise in anyone elseâ€™s hands,â€ said Archer, â€œBesides me, no one knows her better and loves her more than you.â€

â€œThank you, sir,â€ he said, â€œWhoâ€™s gonna be chief engineer?â€

â€œI think thatâ€™s up to you, Captain,â€ said Archer, â€œbut youâ€™ll be happy to know that Commander Tâ€™Pol has agreed to remain first officer as well as your science officer.â€

A flicker of relief washed over Tripâ€™s face. Then, it was all business. Archer explained that he would be commanding a fleet and what role Enterprise would play in the fleet. Trip was given command briefings and intelligence reports, and a formal list of his new duties. Afterward, Jon invited him to dine in the Admiralâ€™s mess, just the two of them. They ate steak, drank a Napa cabernet and looked out at the sparkling bay.

â€œThank you, Admiral,â€ said Trip, â€œI donâ€™t know how Iâ€™ll live up to. . .I promise I'll do my best.â€

â€œDonâ€™t sell yourself short. Youâ€™ve always done well in that big chair, very well,â€ said Jon, â€œI was half-hurt at how comfortable the brass was at handing her over to you. . . .I guess Iâ€™m the brass now.â€

Trip took a bite of his steak.

â€œYou know,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m not sure this is as good as chefâ€™s. . .youâ€™re not taking Chef with you?â€

Archer sighed.

â€œHe turned me down,â€ said Archer, â€œHeâ€™s not Starfleet, you know. And he likes it on Enterprise. Thinks of the crew as family.â€

â€œRemind me to give him a raise,â€ replied Trip, â€œI canâ€™t wait to tell Tâ€™Pol. . .sheâ€™ll be. . .wait, she already knows, doesnâ€™t she?â€

Archer nodded.

â€œWe wanted to make sure she was okay with it, given that sheâ€™s always outranked you. Sheâ€™s fine with it. Kind of proud, if Vulcans can be proud. Do you think you two will be able to continue to work together? I mean, very few people outside the ship know you two are even married. . .but still. . .â€

Trip thought carefully about this new situation. He had been fine with Tâ€™Pol giving him orders, when necessary. He was pretty sure sheâ€™d be okay if the situation was reversed. In any case, heâ€™d find out soon enough.

â€œIn the meantime,â€ continued Archer, â€œYouâ€™re under orders to take three weeks off. This situation is going to put everyone under stress, and Starfleet wants us all to get in R&R while we can. Youâ€™ll have three weeks at Jupiter station before we launch back toward the Beta Quadrant.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œMom and Dad are going to be thrilled,â€ he said matter-a-factly, â€œIâ€™ll wait and tell them when Tâ€™Pol and I get there in a few days.â€

Archer smirked.

â€œIâ€™d like to be a fly on the wall when they meet Tâ€™Pol,â€ he said, choking back a laugh.

Trip glared at him.

â€œOkay, I should probably say â€˜when Tâ€™Pol meets themâ€™. . . .All Iâ€™m saying is that the Tucker clan is demonstrative. . .emotional . . .fun. . .and none of those things are very Vulcan.â€

Trip shook his head. Archer had a point, although he didnâ€™t know about his familyâ€™s reservations about Tâ€™Pol. In fact, Trip had been so worried about his familyâ€™s reservations about Tâ€™Pol, it didnâ€™t occur to him to worry that she might develop reservations about them. He had better warn them to tone it down. Except that might insult them, and they might take it out on her. He furrowed at the thought and took a sip of his wine.

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œAt least weâ€™ll be off in deep space if things go really downhill.â€

The new Admiral nodded.

â€œBy the way,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m going to hit the 602 club tomorrow night. Would you and Tâ€™Pol care to join? It will be sort of like old times.â€

â€œIâ€™m there. Iâ€™ll ask her if she wants to join. Sheâ€™s heard so much about the place, Iâ€™m sure it will pique her Vulcan curiosity.â€

****

That night, Trip dressed in his civilian clothes, as did Tâ€™Pol. They had decided to head out for a celebratory night on to the town at her suggestion. Tâ€™Pol had tied a shimmering scarf of triaxian silk around her head to hide her ears, and she wore a human style dress and high heels. Her hair had grown much longer in the last few months as well, so it appeared that the scarf was simply tying it out of her face.

Tâ€™Pol had proposed a late dinner at the jazz club called Fusion. Trip knew she liked jazz because she often listened to twentieth century classic recordings like Birth of the Cool and Sketches of Spain when she worked in their quarters. Occasionally, she would even ask Trip if he thought a riff had been composed or improvised. Yet, he was still surprised she even knew of the place.

They were seated in a corner banquet in the back, which allowed them to sit next to one another and be close enough to touch. Trip looked at Tâ€™Pol, seeing if she would go for it. She rarely touched in him public, and almost never affectionately. But she was pretending to be human. She slid across the red leather seat and allowed him to put his arm around her. A quartet was playing an improvised version of an old song, and Tâ€™Pol paid careful attention.

A waiter appeared.

â€œDo you have any Grand Dame?â€ asked Trip, wanting to celebrate with the best Champagne.

The waiter nodded and disappeared. Soon, a steward appeared with a bottle and two flutes. Once the libations were poured, and the steward gone, Tâ€™Pol lifted a glass.

â€œCongratulations, Captain,â€ she whispered.

He clinked glasses with her, meeting her gaze.

â€œThank you, Commander. . .you sure youâ€™re gonna be able to live with being under my command?â€

Tâ€™Pol sipped on her Champagne, and she feigned as though she was thinking hard about it.

â€œWell,â€ she said, â€œremember a few months ago when you taught me the game where you were the one in command of me?â€

Trip blushed a little. That fun night had resulted from a day when she had been had been particularly harsh with him over the speed of some repairs. When he had returned to their quarters, he had decided to show her a totally new form playacting, where he was the one in charge for once.

â€œPerhaps Iâ€™ll better be able to live with you commanding me by day, if now and again I am allowed to command you at night.â€

She put her small hand on his neck and felt his pulse beat, then she leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

â€œIf thatâ€™s what it takes to make you happy,â€ he whispered, â€œbut weâ€™ll have to play it the other way now and again, too, just so you remember who is in command.â€

She thought about this.

â€œAgreed,â€ she said and closed her eyes.

The band was improvising a mash-up of two melodies, and Tâ€™Pol listened carefully. She was remembering her previous visit to this place, which had had had a profound effect on her. Memories of that night flitted in his mind as they came to her.

He realized the music evoked an emotional response from her that was slightly dangerous.

â€œYou okay?â€

She nodded.

â€œI came here once, by myself, when I was stationed at the Vulcan compound. I was walking alone and the music drew me inside,â€ she said, mindful that she hadnâ€™t told anyone this since she had told Tolaris.

â€œI found the music,â€ she said, â€œfascinating. Chaotic. But back then, I didnâ€™t understand emotions well enough to . . .handle the sounds. Since Iâ€™ve bonded with you, Iâ€™ve been able to enjoy the music. . .â€

Tolaris had made her fear listening to jazz, but Trip was so comfortable with his emotions, so open that he had restored her love for the music without even knowing it. As she sometimes helped him control his emotions, he could help her access hers without fear.

For a moment, Trip sensed a fleeting, very unpleasant memory. Something had happened to her, but then it was gone. He didnâ€™t want to press the issue, but he knew he would need to ask her what had happened to make her stop listening for a period, when she so clearly enjoyed the music. It was more than just fear of emotions.

But he put the thought aside for the night. Instead, he just watched her as she enjoyed the music. It had never been his favorite genre, but he was going to have to rethink his position.

****

Malcolm paced the observation deck of jupiter station. One senior officer needed to be at the station while the repairs were being made, and he had volunteered to be the one to stay for this week. Travis would relieve him after that, and he would at least get to spend some time in the fresh air. He had decided to go to Hawaii again and spend his leave there. He wanted to invite Hoshi, but she had been so distant since the interrogation, and he was her senior officer. He couldnâ€™t risk trying to press her into speaking to him, let alone accompanying him on shore leave. On the other hand, he was afraid that if he didnâ€™t show interest and concern, she would assume he didnâ€™t care.

â€œDammit,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ve given her enough space.â€

He knew where she was staying on the station. She could have gone back to Earth, but for reasons of her own, she had stayed on Jupiter station. Malcolm had gotten a report that she had been visiting the prisoner, who was now residing in secure guest quarters on the station, under the guise of studying his language. Malcolm knew that her reasons were more complex, of course.

He decided to go find her.

****

Hoshi, however, wasnâ€™t in her quarters. She was in the spacious VIP suite that had become Enmeâ€™s prison. They were sitting at a small table, overlooking the red storm of Jupiter. They were having a conversation in Romulan.

â€œItâ€™s beautiful,â€ said Enme, â€œVery breathtaking.â€

â€œAre there gas giants in the Romulan system?â€

He nodded.

â€œWeâ€™ve got one even bigger than this. Itâ€™s a bluish green color, but it doesnâ€™t have rings or a storm like that.â€

â€œJupiter was always my favorite planet, growing up.â€

â€œYou had a favorite planet? That wasnâ€™t your home?â€

â€œDidnâ€™t you learn about the planets in school?â€

Enme nodded.

â€œYes, but we wouldnâ€™t think of having a favorite. . .you humans never cease to amaze me with your. . .preciousness and sentimentality.â€

â€œWeâ€™re proud of our sentimentality,â€ she said.

Enme took a deep breath. Since becoming a prisoner, he had learned to like Hoshi. In fact, he had liked her when he first met her on the mining colony. Additionally, he liked his sister and Captain Archer. It was just a shame they were his enemies.

Additionally, he sensed no guile in Hoshiâ€™s visits. He sincerely believed that she was there because she wanted to learn more Romulan vocabulary and because she felt sympathy for him. She wasnâ€™t a spy.

This puzzled him because he also sensed that the operative, Lt. Commander Reed, was involved with Hoshi somehow. He didnâ€™t know how involved they were, but humanoid body language couldnâ€™t be that different. Whenever Enme glanced appreciatively at Hoshi when Reed was around, Reed had bristled.

Yes, thought Enme, Reed must care very much for Hoshi or else he wouldnâ€™t allow himself to be so transparent.

Enme didnâ€™t want Hoshi to come to any harm, but he needed to figure out how to use this fact to his advantage.

****

The next morning, Trip and Tâ€™Pol slept in and then decided to go running across the Golden Gate Bridge. The day was again perfect, and both of them were reveling in the little things about being planetside that they tried not to miss too much when they were on the ship. The feeling of real gravity. Birds singing. Wind blowing. Both of them loved being in deep space, but it was impossible not to enjoy time on Earth.

They each had worked up a good sweat, and they had slowed their paced to a walk as they explored Golden Gate Park. Tâ€™Pol knelt down and examined a branch that was teeming with lady bugs.

â€œIt is an incorrect name,â€ she said, â€œSome of these insects are male.â€

Trip grinned. She could hide her ears but not her nature.

â€œThe name comes from them being pretty, like a lady.â€

He could tell she still didnâ€™t get it, and he was glad. He liked having something about him that was superior to Vulcans. Humans grasped metaphor far better.

They found a shady bench, and they sat down together to rest and drink some water.

â€œSo,â€ he said, â€œare you looking forward to our trip to Mississippi?â€

She looked him in the eye.

â€œWe have insulted your parents by not visiting them,â€ she said, â€œI am eager to repair the slight.â€

He nodded. He knew better than to ask if she was nervous. He resolved instead to call his parents and tell them to be sensitive to her Vulcan culture. That would have to be enough.

They sat for awhile, and he remembered how much she had enjoyed their previous evening. He also remembered the fleeting memory of something that had happened. He was pretty sure it involved the Voshâ€™Katur. He then thought back to how she had been ill for days after they left. He hadnâ€™t known her well then, and he never knew what was wrong, but he was beginning to put two and two together. She had been hurt by one of them, and he guessed which one of them it was.

He took her hand, and he shared the direction of his thoughts.

She closed her eyes, but she was blocking the memory.

â€œAre you sure you wish to know?â€ she asked.

He actually wasnâ€™t sure at all, but he knew he needed to know.

Gradually, she unblocked the memory. He felt what Tolaris had done to her, and how she had long blamed herself. However, going to the club had been a test. She had wanted to see if she could listen to the music without it feeling tainted. She had finally let go of what had happened.

â€œIâ€™m glad I didnâ€™t know. I would have probably killed him,â€ said Trip, who surprised himself when he realized he wasnâ€™t being hyperbolic.

â€œWe werenâ€™t bonded then.â€

â€œNo,â€ he said, â€œbut I liked you enough that I would have wanted him dead.â€

â€œItâ€™s long over,â€ she said.

He sensed she didnâ€™t want to discuss it further, and he respected that.

****

When Malcolm had discovered Hoshiâ€™s quarters empty, he had gone back to his temporary office and done some work. He had been tempted to hover around her quarters and wait for her return, but he decided against it. Malcolm was many things, but he wasnâ€™t a stalker.

After he filed his last report, he found his way back to her quarters and hit the door chime. It opened.

She was wearing her exercise clothes and stretching on the floor.

â€œHello,â€ she said.

â€œI came to see if you wanted to get dinner later,â€ said Malcolm.

She didnâ€™t respond. Not with a no, not with a yes.

Screw this, thought Malcolm.

â€œWe need to talk,â€ he said.

â€œThose are four worst words in the English language,â€ she said, â€œNothing good ever follows them.â€

He laughed. She wasnâ€™t wrong about that. He approached her on the floor and sat down next to her.

â€œYouâ€™re in pain,â€ he said, â€œI get that. I never should have allowed you to take part in the interrogation. Youâ€™re in a unique position to empathize with the prisoner. . with Commander Enme . . .and it wasnâ€™t fair to ask you to try and pretend that wasnâ€™t true.â€

She turned away from him. He leaned over and very gently turned her head toward his so he could look her in the eyes.

â€œHowever,â€ he said, â€œI think you know I care deeply about you and whatever this thing is between us, I donâ€™t want it to end.â€

He leaned over and kissed her. It wasnâ€™t precisely gentle, but it wasnâ€™t forceful either. It lasted a long time, and then she put her arms around him and deepened the kiss. Then, he carefully broke the embrace and stood up.

â€œYouâ€™re either in this thing with me or youâ€™re not,â€ said Malcolm, â€œif you want, Iâ€™m all in. But it has to be what you want.â€

He then turned on his heel and went before she could get a word out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13

  
Author's notes: Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount owns this world.

A/N: Chapters 17, 18 and 19 are â€œcalm before the stormâ€ chapters. Not much action, just character stuff.  


* * *

â€œBlack Coffee, Dark Roast,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, and soon a cup of coffee appeared.

She inhaled the aroma, which was not unpleasant, even though she couldnâ€™t stand the bitter drink.

She instead took the cup down the hall of the medium-sized Starfleet transport shuttle and into the private cabin she and Trip had been assigned. One of the luxuries of being a Starfleet officer was travel on Starfleet transports rather than the commercial ones, which didnâ€™t have private cabins. The trip to Mississippi would take approximately four hours, thanks stops in Dallas and New Orleans.

Still, the sunny little cabin was comfortable, resembling an old-fashioned train car except with a more contemporary design. In the cabin, Tâ€™Pol found the new captain of Enterprise sprawled out, with a wet towel covering his head.

â€œIâ€™ve brought you your coffee, Captain,â€ she said.

Trip didnâ€™t move, but he spoke weakly.

â€œI didnâ€™t ask you for it as my first officer. That would be a breach of protocol. I asked you as my wife and because I donâ€™t think I could have made it down the hall on my own.â€

â€œI still believe you should have seen a doctor for an analgesic,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œNot if Admiral Archer didnâ€™t need one,â€ sighed Trip.

Tâ€™Pol helped Trip sit up and handed him the coffee, which he sipped on gingerly.

â€œI am beginning to understand why the 602 Club has started to serve Klingon Blood Wine. Human males have similar competitive sociological patterns.â€

Trip squinted in the bright light of the cabin.

â€œYou ainâ€™t kiddin, sweetheart,â€ said Trip, â€œbut promise me if you ever see me reaching for that swill again, nerve pinch me before I take one sip.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow, and she was about to speak. Then, it dawned on her that he was kidding.

â€œPerhaps I will just remind you of this incident, and that shall be enough to deter you.â€

â€œJon has the tolerance of a man twice his size,â€ moaned Trip.

â€œI think weâ€™ve both noticed his determination to build up that tolerance of late,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand I am grateful you donâ€™t share his habits.â€

Trip shook his head, knowing she had a point. Trip hated to admit it, but it was true. Jon had always liked a drink, but since they had first gotten back from The Expanse, he had been a little too friendly with the bottle. As his subordinates, they certainly werenâ€™t in a position to say anything unless it endangered a mission. But Trip was concerned.

The night had started out fun, with the three of them talking about the first couple of years aboard the ship. Jon had told Tâ€™Pol some stories of the early days preparing for the mission, including he and Tripâ€™s adventures in Alice Springs. In return, Tâ€™Pol told them of her intelligence training on Vulcan. But then Jon had discovered, through the waitress called Ruby, that the club kept a secret bottle of blood wine behind the bar. Jon had bragged about his drinking it while imprisoned by the Klingons, and soon the two men were trading shots of the highly concentrated drink.

For her part, Tâ€™Pol was grateful that her husband was mostly a quiet drunk. She had learned in the short time they were married, that it was rare that Trip had too much to drink and when he did, he simply stopped talking. Unless you spoke to him first, and then he babbled incoherently. By the time she had helped him back to their suite at Starfleet headquarters, she resolved to thank Lt. Commander Reed for not allowing her husband to throw himself of the airlock of Shuttlepod One all those years ago. In Tripâ€™s intoxicated condition, Reed had to have been at least tempted to let him go.

â€œItâ€™s a tricky situation,â€ said Trip, â€œbut if I ever see the Admiral hitting the bottle on duty again. . .Iâ€™ll have to say something.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised another eyebrow.

â€œWe knocked back a few when you and Hoshi were being held. . .it seemed harmless at the time, but in retrospect. . .â€

His voice trailed off, and Tâ€™Pol did not respond. She had no idea how to respond to this unnerving habit Archer had developed. She knew very well the dangers of addiction, and how sensitive it could make someone.

â€œThereâ€™s medication you can take to curb your habit,â€ said Trip, â€œbut itâ€™s getting people to admit to having a issue and taking the stuff thatâ€™s always tricky. The medicine kills some of the pleasure of drinking because it stops you from feeling the intoxication. If youâ€™re hitting the booze to kill the pain, there isnâ€™t much point to being on anti-intoxicants.â€

â€œPerhaps I will suggest meditation,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œif the subject ever comes up.â€

â€œLetâ€™s hope it doesnâ€™t, darlin,â€ said Trip, closing his eyes again.

Tâ€™Pol decided it was best to change the subject, since the situation with the Admiral could not be solved at the moment. Besides, her immediate concern was her husband.

â€œDo you believe you will be recovered by the time we reach Mississippi?â€

Trip glanced up at the chronometer.

â€œI hope so,â€ said Trip, not wanting his mom to recognize his ailment.

******

The ProConsulâ€™s cottage was normally his private retreat. Only his children and Reman servants ever came there, and he preferred it that way. Why he had offered it as the site of Bala and Stonâ€™s wedding, he didnâ€™t know. The wedding was planned quickly and the various family members had arrived on two separate warbirds and had spent a day mingling awkwardly.

Her family had long been rivals of his family, going back centuries. This wedding would unite them, and hopefully provide an alliance that would allow them all to dominate the senate and obtain the largest share of the spoils that would no doubt result from the current conflict.

Thankfully, however, the elaborate Romulan marriage ceremony did not have a role for the father of the groom. So, The ProConsul watched from a high balcony as the son he despised married the girl, instead of the son he loved.

_You are lucky, Ston,_ he thought, _if this marriage wasnâ€™t necessary, you would not be breathing._

*****

Enme heard the chime at his door. Since his sister would be on Earth for a few more weeks, he figured it was either a steward or Hoshi. He was sitting in the chair at the window, watching the storm of Jupiter rage.

â€œCome in,â€ he said.

He was surprised to see the intelligence officer, Malcolm Reed, enter his rooms.

â€œHello,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œGood Morning,â€ said Enme, â€œHow can I help you?â€

â€œIâ€™m here to help you,â€ said Malcolm.

Enme laughed, unpleasantly.

â€œWeâ€™re looking to open deep back-end negotiations with your people. Starting with your father. Our aim is to make them understand the lack of wisdom in trying to invade this quadrant. Can you help us?â€

Enme stood up. He walked over to the much smaller man and glared at him. Malcolm didnâ€™t back down. He glared right back.

â€œNo,â€ said Enme, â€œYou may go now.â€

Malcolm laughed at that.

â€œYouâ€™re hardly in a position to give me orders,â€ said Malcolm, â€œbut think about what I said. When the war is over, youâ€™ll be free to go. Anywhere you like.â€

Enme turned and faced the window.

â€œOnly cowards negotiate,â€ he sneered.

Malcolm smiled to himself. He recognized the cracks in the manâ€™s armor. It was a good sign.

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œI shall then leave you to your solitude.â€

Enme turned his head and smiled.

â€œWell, Iâ€™m sure Hoshi will stop by later.â€

â€œDonâ€™t count on it.â€

With that, Malcolm left.

****

Tâ€™Pol drove the rented electric car with Trip riding shotgun from the Gulfport transport pad to the newly built Tucker home, which was tucked away on ten acres in the lush pine forests of Southern Mississippi.

â€œHow are you feeling?â€ she asked.

â€œBetter,â€ he said. It wasnâ€™t a lie, but it was a matter of degrees.

â€œI suggest you ask your family for an analgesic when we arrive. It would not be dishonest to simply state you have a headache. You need not elaborate on the reason.â€

Trip sighed. She was right. He nodded. The house which sat in a sunny clearing was new and contemporary, but it was built from brick in a style that suggested the early twentieth century houses of the region - two stories with a large porch and a big, stained glass window above the door. Down a back path was a guest bungalow, built especially for Tripâ€™s brotherâ€™s family and their frequent visits with their adopted son. Tripâ€™s brotherâ€™s husband was Irish and the family lived in Ireland, so when they came it was for extended visits.

The red garage was an outbuilding about fifty meters before the house, and Tâ€™Pol parked the vehicle there. Trip flipped open his communicator.

â€œMom, weâ€™re here,â€ he said.

â€œBe right out,â€ drawled Elaine Tucker through the device.

Trip and Tâ€™Pol headed for the main house. Trip glanced at his wife, who had been wearing human clothes since their arrival on Earth, but that morning she had dressed in Vulcan civilian robes of patterned silk. Rather than use a scarf to hide her ears, she had used one to tie her long hair back and make her ears conspicuous.

â€œThe air is humid here,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, looking up at the tall trees.

â€œWelcome to the gulf coast,â€ he said, â€œLet me know if you have any trouble breathing, okay? This is a long way from a Vulcan desert, and I know your body didnâ€™t evolve for this kind of humidity. The good new is that the mosquitos will likely leave you alone. Theyâ€™re only interested in old-fashioned iron blood.â€

He smiled at her. He had gently searched her mind to see if she was nervous, but she wasnâ€™t. She was accepting. She had married Trip, and it was her duty to meet his family. She intended to endure the visit like a Vulcan.

Elaine Tucker appeared on the front porch, and she immediately rushed down the stairs and pulled her son into a bear hug, which he returned. She wasnâ€™t as tall as her son, but she was nevertheless tall and thin.

â€œGood to see you, Mom,â€ said Trip.

â€œIâ€™m just glad you made it here in one piece,â€ she said, â€œYou know, I sometimes avoid the news just because I donâ€™t want to here what kind of trouble youâ€™ve gotten yourself into. Next time I see Jonathan Archer, Iâ€™m going to give him a good talking-to about risk-taking.â€

She reached up and brushed a hair out of Tripâ€™s eyes. Then, she turned to look at the Vulcan woman standing next to him.

â€œIâ€™m glad to finally meet you in person, Tâ€™Pol,â€ said Elaine, tentatively.

Tâ€™Pol reached a hand out.

â€œIt is very agreeable to finally meet you in person, Ms. Tucker,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Elaine glanced at Trip.

â€œI didnâ€™t think Vulcans shook hands,â€ she said, taking Tâ€™Polâ€™s hand.

â€œMost Vulcans donâ€™t,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut Iâ€™m endeavoring to adapt to human customs. And since you are family, physical contact is not inappropriate.â€

Elaine smiled at the Vulcan woman, if a bit skeptically. On the other hand, she now completely understood why her son had become involved with a Vulcan. Saucer eyes. Bee-stung lips. Pointed ears. This petite, curvaceous Vulcan was not only beautiful, she was sexy as all get-out. Exactly her sonâ€™s type. Plus, she was probably a challenge, and her son loved a challenge.

â€œWell,â€ said Elaine, â€œthatâ€™s very sweet of you. And weâ€™re going to adapt to some of yours. Charlie has made sure there will be plenty of veggies and tofu on separate vegetarian grill tonight. Weâ€™re throwing party to celebrate your arrival. All the aunts, uncles and cousins will be here. Plus a good number of the neighbors. Oh, and weâ€™ve got a zydeco band coming up from NOLA, and Uncle Jim is going to make a batch of his famous white russians. Plus thereâ€™s going to be a keg. . .and Iâ€™ve ordered a wedding cake from townâ€

Trip bit his lip, trying to repress a laugh at the look on Tâ€™Polâ€™s face.

â€œDonâ€™t either of you look at me that way. I was robbed of throwing you two a proper wedding. So you are to consider tonight a belated reception. I just wish your brother was here. But Bert doesnâ€™t want to take my grandson out of school. . .says the boyâ€™s getting too old. . .so, that means you two can stay in the guest quarters.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œIâ€™ll get our bags,â€ he said.

â€œNonsense. Your Dad will haul them out. It will insult him you donâ€™t let him do it. Not another word. . .heâ€™s out back setting some things up for tonight. Now come in. . Iâ€™ve got tea brewing in the kitchen. Trip told me that you drink tea. . .Iâ€™ve got some chamomile.â€

â€œThank you, Ms. Tucker,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œTrip requires an analgesic for a headache. May we trouble you for one?â€™

Elaine looked at her son with concern, and put a maternal hand on his cheek.

â€œHeadache! Ah, you did mention something about the 602 club didnâ€™t you? That place seems to deal in headaches. I hope he didnâ€™t embarrass you too much, my dear. Tuckers generally hold their liquor well but tend to babble. . .I guess youâ€™ll just have to go easy tonight, kid.â€

Tâ€™Pol blinked, unsure how to respond.

With that, Elaine led the two into the kitchen, confidant at least that her daughter-in-law cared for her sonâ€™s health and would not stop him from having a good time once and awhile.

****

Hoshi arrived at Enmeâ€™s door to find the guard there, as usual. This time, however, she was not allowed in.

â€œI have full clearance, Ensign,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œNot any more, Lieutenant,â€ said the nervous Ensign.

â€œItâ€™s my job to study the prisonerâ€™s language,â€ said Hoshi.

â€œOrders have come down that you are no longer allowed access to the prisoner.â€

Hoshi wanted to argue, but she knew it was hardly the young ensignâ€™s fault. She knew exactly whose fault it was, and she was going to hold him responsible.

How dare he not trust me. How dare he think I couldnâ€™t handle my job. How dare he read anything more than sympathy in my concern for. . .

Hoshi stopped all the way to Malcolmâ€™s temporary office, and she blew straight past the assistant and right into the office where Malcolm sat reading an intelligence report.

â€œI suppose you didnâ€™t come here because you wanted to take me to lunch,â€ said Malcolm, doing his best not to smile.

â€œYou had no right to ban my access. . .â€

â€œI had every right,â€ said Malcolm, â€œand you know all the reasons why. Even the ones I didnâ€™t put in my report.â€

Hoshiâ€™s glared, folded her arms and sat down. She stared at him for the longest time without saying anything. Then, she spoke.

â€œItâ€™s not what you think,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™m not interested him in that way. You have no need to be jealous.â€

Hoshi realized that she wasnâ€™t lying, to her surprise. Enme was handsome and charming, but he wasnâ€™t exactly boyfriend material. She just felt sorry for him, and she felt guilty about his situation. It was possible to find someone attractive and know it wasnâ€™t possible to act on the attraction.

â€œTruly,â€ she continued, â€œI pity him is all. Would you rather I pitied you and fucked him?â€

Malcolm stood up, walked over to Hoshi and got nose to nose with her.

â€œIrrelevant, since we havenâ€™t fucked. . .in awhile.â€

Before she could react, Malcolm pulled her into a deep, long kiss. She had expected it to be hard and harsh, reflective of the anger she felt. But it wasnâ€™t. It wasnâ€™t precisely soft, either. It was just enough pressure to make her swoon slightly as she felt her anger drift away. She put her arms around him, genuinely happy to be there.

He pulled away, leaving her surprised.

â€œAre you in or out?â€ he asked.

There was no anger in his voice. It was just a simple question.

â€œYouâ€™re either my girlfriend or you arenâ€™t. Iâ€™m not going to live with an open ended question,â€ he continued.

She reached up and tried to answer him with a kiss, but he pulled away.

â€œSay the words,â€ he said.

â€œIâ€™m in. Youâ€™re the one. Youâ€™re my . . .boyfriend.â€

â€œSo there will be no one else? Weâ€™re exclusive?â€

She sighed, hating these kinds of conversations but also recognizing his position.

â€œYes,â€ she sighed with a soft smile, â€œWeâ€™re exclusive.â€

For the first time in a long time, Malcolm smiled at her and then pulled her back into the kiss.

****

Charlie Tucker looked around at the 80 or so guests that mingled in his lush backyard. The band played a lively old tune, heavy on the fiddle, and a few couples were even dancing. The smells from the grill filled the air, and a few children played tag across the hill. People were having a good time. Everyone, except his new daughter-in-law. She had simply shadowed his son the whole evening, saying little and reacting to nothing. Charlie reminded himself that she was from a completely alien culture. For all he knew, she was having a great time.

His wife of nearly forty years approached him and handed him a glass of beer.

â€œSo what do you think, Charlie? For real?â€

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œShe is beautiful, and they do seem rather attached. He canâ€™t keep his eyes off her.â€

Elaine Tucker smiled at that, and she looked over at her son and daughter-in-law. Her brother Troy was talking to them both, no doubt telling them about the local frog jumping contest that heâ€™d recently won. Frog jumping was a tradition in Jefferson County, going back about 200 years.

â€œHe is completely over the moon, isnâ€™t he? Itâ€™s nice to see him happy. . .and she, well, she must care about him. She can hardly go back to her homeworld now. Vulcans are less on board with interspecies marriage than us humans. I do hope that Trip isnâ€™t upset with us for having a cake. . .I know we were supposed to keep quiet about their wedding,â€ she said.

â€œHeâ€™s in such a good mood, you could probably post a global press release and heâ€™d only be mildly irritated. But remember, he insisted there be no cake rituals. Vulcans are persnickety about their food habits, especially in public. Apparently, they donâ€™t even touch their food with their bare hands. Trip thinks having to stuff cake in his mouth would be mortifying for her.â€

â€œI heard that,â€ said Elaine, â€œDid he tell you about the wedding? A big, long Vulcan ceremony with no reception.â€

â€œVulcans arenâ€™t big on fun, thatâ€™s for sure. Weâ€™re not supposed to ask her to dance. Vulcans donâ€™t dance. At least, not the way we do.â€

Charlie saw that Troy had run off to the grill, no doubt to pile up another plate of food for himself. In doing so, he briefly let the newlyweds alone. Trip whispered something into his wifeâ€™s pointed ear, and he very quickly brushed the palm of her hand with his finger. Even from a distance, Charlie sensed an electricity between them.

Charlie had noticed that his son almost never touched his new wife, especially when they were in view of others. Considering the way Trip used to unabashedly and very publicly make out with his previous girlfriends, even in eyeshot of his parents, Charlie assumed that it was out of respect for her culture that they didnâ€™t touch. And yet, that one little brush seemed far more intense than anything Charlie had ever witnessed between Trip and his other girlfriends.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Not mine.

Rating: NC-17 for smutty, explicit TnT sex AND R/S sex.

A/N: Thereâ€™s a reference to my one shot story â€œTell Me a Storyâ€ here, but you donâ€™t have to have read it to understand. It helps, though.

There are also some words in the Malay language, which I hope are correct as I depended on someone else to translate. They are end noted.

TnT are still on vacation, but never fear, they will be pulled into the excitement soon enough.  


* * *

The sun shone through the big window of the Tucker guest house, bathing the oversized four poster bed with light. Trip opened his eyes and found himself alone under the sumptuous coverlet, and he heard noises coming from the small kitchen that was part of the main room.

Planetside sensations seemed to surround him. He inhaled deeply to better enjoy the scent of fresh linen mixed with the crisp forest air that breezed through the window screens. He could hear insects chirping and buzzing, birds singing and even the wind blowing through the tops of the trees. Morning was the best time to enjoy Mississippi, before the heat of the day became oppressive and the climate controls had to be activated.

He sat up as a still pajama-clad Tâ€™Pol entered to room, carrying a mug of coffee for him and a mug of tea for herself. She handed him his coffee, and then climbed in bed next to him.

â€œDid you enjoy the party?â€ he asked, teasingly.

â€œIt was agreeable to meet your family,â€ she said, â€œand to fulfill my social obligations to them.â€

â€œUncle Troy was quite taken with you,â€ said Trip, â€œSays he wants to visit Vulcan now, since the women are so pretty.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced at Trip, not even bothering to raise her eyebrow.

â€œIâ€™m not sure that Troy would fit in among my people,â€ she replied, with customary Vulcan understatement.

Uncle Troy had been very helpful to her, however. She was especially pleased to hear how Troy had read the novel _Tom Sawyer_ to young Trip several times. Troy had also told her that he had told young Trip that Mr. Twain had based the story on their Missouri forefather.

â€œWas there a basis for that claim in fact?â€ Tâ€™Pol had asked Troy, sincerely.

â€œLetâ€™s just say when the family legend becomes the truth, embrace the legend. Itâ€™s always more interesting,â€ Troy had responded with a laugh.

Clearly, tall tales and hyperbole were a Tucker family tradition.

â€œYour mother is cooking a large midmorning meal for us,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œShe wishes us to come to the main house at 1100 hours.â€

â€œShe does a great brunch,â€ said Trip, yawning.

Tâ€™Pol sipped on her tea.

â€œI am glad of not eating this morning, considering the unnatural amount of food I consumed last night.â€

â€œWell, it was a party,â€ he said smiling and putting his coffee on the nightstand and running his hand up her leg. â€œItâ€™s early yet. What shall we ever do with our time until brunch?â€

Trip leaned over and began to plant soft kisses on her neck.

â€œYou havenâ€™t brushed your teeth, husband,â€ she said, â€œKissing you on the mouth is more pleasant when you have.â€

He grinned, hopped up and headed toward the bathroom. She continued to sip on her tea as she waited patiently. When he emerged from the bathroom, he had not only brushed his teeth but removed all his sleeping clothes. Naked and fully aroused by the sight of her against the white sheets, he strode over and climbed up onto the bed. She put her mug on the nightstand, never taking her eyes off him.

â€œNow will you kiss me?â€ he asked playfully.

â€œWhere would you like me to kiss you, husband? It seems youâ€™ve given me many options.â€

Trip smiled and closed his eyes.

â€œWhy donâ€™t you surprise me?â€

She thought carefully for a moment, eliminating the two most obvious places to begin. Instead, she leaned over and kissed the rounded-top of his ear before gently blowing into it. He was far more captivated by the points of her ears, but she nevertheless adored the roundness of his. It reminded her of a French phrase a Parisian man had exclaimed when she had walked past him, viva la difference. She then proceeded to lick the round part the way he had so often done with her pointed ears.

â€œMmmmm.....â€ he said.

After she had finished that leisurely exploration, she straddled him and sat on his taut stomach so she could give the other ear the same treatment. Not one to sit idle, Trip unbuttoned her top and pushed it off of her.

When she had finished with the second ear, she kissed the tip of his nose before covering his mouth with her own. Mouth open, she tasted the mint of his breath as their tongues swirled around each other. His hands grabbed at her rear end through the silk of her pajama bottoms.

She was the one who broke the kiss, but only to continue planting kisses down his neck and chest. She looked up at him and he smiled at her, and she wiggled further down his body. She first kissed the top of his shaft, then swirled her tongue around the tip. She glanced up to see he had closed his eyes and his breathing quickened. She slowly took the whole thing in her mouth, applying just the right amount of pressure as she moved up and down.

Rarely did he let her finish him this way, saying it wasnâ€™t fair to her. But she intended to make use of the hours they had to kill. When he whispered that he was close, she continued on, using one hand to help her along with her task and slipping the other hand into his.

â€œOh, honey,â€ he whispered.

She sped up her movements and soon she felt him shiver and jerk, and he spilled into her mouth. She sat up and quickly grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and discreetly spit into it. He was still caught up in his euphoria, but managed to lovingly brush her hair from her face as she laid her head on his chest and waited for him to recover.

â€œWow,â€ he whispered, â€œthat was. . . amazing. You are. . .amazing.â€

She sighed contently, enjoying what he was feeling through their linked minds.

â€œBut be warned,â€ he said mischievously, â€œIâ€™m going to have to come up with some creative way to thank you. Just give me a minute or so. . .â€

****

In the shadowy light of his rooms on Jupiter station, Malcolm had Hoshi on her knees, face pressed face down on his bed. They were both naked, and he was inside her, whispering in her ear. He spoke words in Malay, surprising her that he knew the language which so few people spoke.

â€œ _Aku cinta kamu_ ,â€ he said. (1)

She tried to turn and look at him, to see if he knew what he had just said, but he wouldnâ€™t let her. He gently turned her head back and whispered in her ear.

â€œ _Aku tahu apa yang kukatakan_.â€ (2)

She closed her eyes and let go of everything, just allowing herself to feel him inside her and his fingers working at her. It wasnâ€™t long before she was overwhelmed with pleasure, nearly collapsing. He soon followed her, and then gently turned her over and took her into his arms.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but he hushed her.

â€œDonâ€™t say it back,â€ he said, â€œI donâ€™t want you to say it because I did. I want you to say it because you mean it.â€

She titled her head a little, as if thinking about this.

â€œI didnâ€™t know you spoke Malay. I mean, so few people speak that. . .â€

â€œYou know I grew up partially in Malaysia. I picked up a few things from. . .from the servants and the street vendors,â€ he said, slightly embarrassed.

The world had supposedly moved beyond such class distinctions, but most Malaysians spoke perfect English and wouldnâ€™t have bothered speaking the native tongue to a British boy.

â€œIâ€™m impressed,â€ she said, â€œYouâ€™ve got an English accent for sure, but itâ€™s very slight.â€

â€œIâ€™ve been working on Andorian. Iâ€™ll try that out on you someday, too.â€

â€œIâ€™d like that,â€ she said as she settled into his arms, â€œIâ€™m glad things are better. . .between us. Iâ€™m glad.â€

She spoke the truth. In past hours, the sadness that had wrapped around like a blanket since the interrogation had lifted. She felt safe. If she began to remember what she had seen Malcolm doing that day, she pushed it from her mind. He was doing his job, and there had been not hint that he had gotten any pleasure from what he had done. That made him very different from the Xindi who had hurt her.

â€œIâ€™m glad, too,â€ he said, playing with her hair, â€œAre you okay? Really okay? Not just with us, but with everything?â€

She sighed.

â€œWith us, Iâ€™m okay. Iâ€™ll get back to you on everything.â€

****

Elaine Tucker had wanted some time alone with her daughter-in-law. So, after brunch, she had insisted that her husband show their son the houseâ€™s new atmospheric system, which not only kept the house at a decent temperature but also dealt with the twin demons of the Mississippi climate, humidity and pollen.

Tâ€™Pol helped her put all the dishes in the dishwasher, and even carefully cleaned a few of the bone china pieces that were to fragile for the machine.

â€œThat was my great-great-great-great grandmotherâ€™s,â€ said Elaine taking a small sugar bowl from Tâ€™Pol, â€œShe bought it in Ireland on her honeymoon. Her parents had come from Ireland originally. Funny that after a couple of centuries, my son returned there.â€

Tâ€™Pol stared at the little dish, amazed that it had survived so many years of use.

â€œI am looking forward to meeting your other son,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œYouâ€™ll like him,â€ said Elaine, â€œand heâ€™ll adore you. Iâ€™m glad youâ€™ll get to meet that branch of the family before you return to space.â€

Elaine put the sugar dish away in a cabinet, and then she opened a drawer and pulled out a square box.

â€œYou know. . . .since Bert is married to a man. . .and we lost our daughter, youâ€™re pretty much my only daughter. . .â€

Elaine opened the box and pulled out a jeweled butterfly clip.

â€œMy mother gave me this when I married Charlie. She got it from her mother, and honestly, I donâ€™t know how far it back it goes beyond that. I was going to give this to Lizzie when she got married, but you know what happened. I think sheâ€™d want you to have it since well. . . â€œ

Elaine approached Tâ€™Pol from the back and gathered her hair into a twist and clipped it with the butterfly.

â€œThere, it looks very pretty on you. Very pretty.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced at herself in a mirror that was on the far wall. She turned to Elaine.

â€œI thank you, Ms. Tucker. I am honored.â€

â€œWould it be so very un-Vulcan if you called me Elaine?â€ asked Elaine.

Bertâ€™s husband called her Mom, but she thought that might be pushing it.

â€œI am honored, Elaine.â€

â€œCâ€™mon,â€ she said, â€œLetâ€™s go find the boys before they decide to dismantle the climate system for this house.â€

****

Enme stared up and the plain ceiling of his cabin/prison. His sister wouldnâ€™t be back from the main planet for weeks, and Hoshi had been banned from seeing him.

Perhaps, he thought, Lt. Commander Reed is simply trying to bore me to death.

Death. That was something he had contemplated quite a bit lately. He should have found away to die by now, given his situation. That was what was expected of a person in his position. Romulans simply did not endure the indignity of being a prisoner.

Unfortunately for Enme, he was rather attached to his own existence. Furthermore, he actually sort of liked these humans that were holding him. He also found he enjoyed their food and drink, and he was even starting to pick up their language thanks to his conversations with Hoshi.

But, he knew he was only putting off the inevitable. He was going to have to die, and he should probably do it, soon.

â€œNo time like the present,â€ he said aloud in his native tongue to no one in particular.

He thought out a plan for the next couple of hours. The easiest thing to do would be to kill the steward and the guards, take the guardâ€™s weapon and be done with the matter. But that seemed a little untoward. The steward had been bringing him all sorts of alcoholic beverages to try, including the Sake Hoshi had recommended. The guards wouldnâ€™t bother him so much, but that might upset his sister. He wouldnâ€™t want to cause her any trouble. They were family, after all.

So, he formulated a more complicated but still possibly quite effective plan. He waited patiently for the steward to arrive with his afternoon meal. As the man was setting out the plate, Enme grabbed him from behind and cut off his oxygen supply. Moments later, the man collapsed to the floor, unconscious but alive. Enme quickly switched uniforms with him, grateful that the steward was also tall, and then opened the door. He punched one guard and quickly tripped the other. He grabbed a phase pistol and stunned both of them. It wasnâ€™t exactly easy, but it wasnâ€™t hard either. He was, after all, a highly trained military man with plenty of hand-to-hand combat experience.

Enme assumed that the stationâ€™s sensors would detect the phaser fire so he moved quickly, but not so quickly that he would arouse the suspicions of the humans he passed in the hallway. For all they knew, he was just a Vulcan in a Starfleet uniform, just like his sister.

He kept reminding himself not to smile.

Enme looked down at the weapon in his hand, and he realized he had no idea how to turn it from stun to kill.

Thatâ€™s damn inconvenient, he thought, recognizing heâ€™d look very foolish if he just managed to stun himself.

He knew there had to be an airlock or an incinerator or even a steep drop somewhere around here. He jumped in a turbolift and hit a button that didnâ€™t appear to be a main floor. He got out and headed down the hall. He turned a corner. Down the hall he saw a familiar figure, though she wasnâ€™t facing him.

He approached quickly.

â€œHoshi?â€ he said.

She turned to look at him.

â€œWhat are you doing?â€ she said.

â€œI require your assistance, but donâ€™t worry this is set to stun. Still, Iâ€™m going to ask you to help me find an airlock or something.â€

â€œThatâ€™s insane. This is the Sol system. . . you wonâ€™t be able to get anywhere. . .â€

â€œIâ€™m not planning on going far,â€ he said grimly.

She was puzzled for a moment, and then she understood. She had tried to do the same thing when held by the Xindi.

â€œI canâ€™t let you . . .â€

â€œHoshi,â€ he said, â€œI saved your life. I rescued you. Iâ€™m not asking you to help me escape, just to help me become permanently useless to my captors.â€

She turned around to look behind her, hoping Malcolm was there. His quarters were just a few doors down. She wanted so badly for him to find her and prevent her from what she was about to do.

â€œThereâ€™s an airlock on this floor. Itâ€™s used for maintenance. Iâ€™ll show you.â€

â€œBrilliant,â€ said Enme.

****

Enme and Hoshi had just disappeared down an auxiliary corridor when Malcolm rushed from his quarters and headed toward the turbolift. The prisoner had, for reasons known only to himself, decided to escape his quarters. The two guards and the steward had been subdued, but they were all fine.

Malcolm briefly considered setting his phase pistol to kill, but then he remembered that wasnâ€™t policy. The man was a valuable asset, and every security officer on the station was looking for him. There wasnâ€™t, however, any kind of station wide alert since the prisonerâ€™s presence and identity were closely guarded secrets.

Malcolmâ€™s communicator chirped.

â€œWe believe heâ€™s on your level, sir. And he may have a human hostage.â€

â€œCan you get me a location?â€

â€œWeâ€™re working on it, sir. The scanners on this station are pretty old.â€

Malcolm filed a note to himself in his head to request upgraded scanners for this station.

****

Trip stood on the sand, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico. Seagulls flew overhead, and a few people still sat on towels enjoying the beach, though it was a weekday and getting late. He kicked off his shoes and allowed the waves to wash over his feet. He looked back at Tâ€™Pol, who did not appear interested in doing the same.

â€œYou know,â€ he said, â€œThis is the first time weâ€™ve been on a real beach together. As opposed to an imaginary one. Iâ€™m glad Mom and Dad suggested we take a drive out here. Itâ€™s not as pretty as Florida, but itâ€™ll do.â€

Tâ€™Pol inhaled the salt and seaweed smell of the beach, and she found it peculiar how much humans loved these places. Large bodies of water were associated with hurricanes and tsunamis and contained large predatory fish such as sharks. Vulcan had no such large oceans, and her people considered themselves lucky for it.

â€œIt feels good, I promise,â€ he said.

Tâ€™Pol decided to humor him, and she took off her shoes and joined him. The sun was setting in the west, and the sky had turned pink.

â€œIf it werenâ€™t for the water and humidity,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™d say the sky looks somewhat Vulcan.â€

The water washed over her small feet, which were squished in the sand.

â€œThe wet sand is good for your feet, you know,â€ he said.

â€œIt feels. . .pleasant,â€ she said, her hands behind her back.

â€œMaybe before we leave for Ireland, Iâ€™ll convince you to go for a swim. Itâ€™s not like the sharks will get you. They only sniff out iron blood.â€

She locked eyes with him, impressed at how adept he had become at reading her thoughts.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Not mine.

Rating: PG-13, just some angst.  


* * *

The bright light, so different from the dimness of his living quarters, hurt Enmeâ€™s eyes. He squinted and stared out from the interior of the airlock at Hoshi, who stood patiently in the hallway. She had made no move to call security or even cry out for help. Enme realized that in a matter of minutes, his life would be over. The thought didnâ€™t please him as he had always hoped to die in battle sometime after his 150th birthday.

â€œDo you want me to explain how to operate the mechanism? You can do it from inside the airlock. I wonâ€™t operate it for you,â€ said Hoshi in Romulan.

Enme examined the controls, which were bewildering to him.

â€œIt will go faster if you do operate the controls. Itâ€™s not like youâ€™d get in trouble. Iâ€™m the enemy.â€

â€œYouâ€™re a valuable asset,â€ said Hoshi half-heartedly, â€œbut thatâ€™s not why I wonâ€™t do it. I donâ€™t want you to die, and I donâ€™t think you deserve to die.â€

â€œWell then, by all means, explain these knobs and this panel. It makes no sense whatsoever. But I daresay it seems silly that you will explain to me how to do it but wonâ€™t save me the trouble. . .â€ his voice drifted away.

â€œMay I ask you a question?â€

â€œYes,â€ he said.

â€œDo you want to die?â€

â€œOf course not.â€

â€œThen why do this? Thereâ€™s a human expression. Where there is life there is hope.â€

He began pacing with his hands clasped behind his back.

â€œThat is nonsense, and you know it. You tried to kill yourself when you were held by the Xindi. You told me that. You also told me that for months afterwards you wished you were dead because you had given up your code.â€

Hoshi stepped into the airlock and began looking at the interior controls.

â€œMy people forgave me for what I did. They said it wasnâ€™t my fault.â€

â€œRomulans arenâ€™t humans,â€ said Enme, â€œand youâ€™d be more convincing if you told me youâ€™ve forgiven yourself, which you clearly havenâ€™t.â€

He tossed aside the phase pistol. At this point, he wasnâ€™t going to shoot her, and he knew she knew that.

â€œIâ€™ve noticed how different our two cultures are,â€ she said, â€œMaybe you canâ€™t go back to your people, but you wouldnâ€™t be the universeâ€™s first exile.â€

â€œIâ€™m not a traitor,â€ he said, â€œbut I did betray my people. I canâ€™t live with that.â€

For a long while, she looked at him, and then an impulse overtook her. She tapped into the controls. The door shut, trapping them both inside. A two minute countdown appeared, and Hoshi just stood there, watching it tick.

â€œThere you go,â€ she said flatly.

â€œAre you mad, woman?â€ he said, â€œWhy have you. . ?â€

Hoshi shrugged.

â€œYouâ€™re right. I was wrong. You never get over it, even if everyone says itâ€™s not your fault. Even if it isnâ€™t your fault, it just makes you dead inside.â€

Enme dashed to the corner and picked up the phase pistol.

â€œTurn it off,â€ he said.

As he pointed the phase pistol at her, he recognized the absurdity of the action.

â€œIsnâ€™t this what you want?â€ she said.

â€œNo,â€ he said grabbing her arm and squeezing her with all his Romulan strength, â€œI donâ€™t want to die, and I donâ€™t want you to die, either.â€

Enme had a split second decision to make. He could attempt to shoot the controls to stop the countdown, but that might not work. Or he could try and convince Hoshi to stop the countdown.

He slammed the back of his head against the wall. Hoshi was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

â€œYou know, my life was pretty damn good before. . .it was fantastic, actually . .â€ he said, â€œand it seems to me youâ€™ve got a lot to live for. Lt. Commander Reed seems rather fond of you. . .â€

Hoshi turned to him. His hands were shaking. This was the first time she had seen fear in him.

â€œTurn it off,â€ he said.

Tears formed in her eyes.

â€œThe pain will stop,â€ she said.

â€œSo will the joy. So will the hope,â€ he said as panic choked in his throat, and he realized the irony of the sudden role reversal.

Hoshi brushed a tear from her eye. The thought of all the deadness inside going away was very appealing.

â€œPlease,â€ said Enme, â€œDonâ€™t make me beg. Besides. . .think of your family. Think of Lt. Commander Reed. . .think of everyone who cares for you. . .youâ€™re very, very lucky to live in a society that forgives. . itâ€™s a remarkable cultural trait. You should appreciate it, and take advantage of it. Iâ€™m envious of it. There, I said it, Iâ€™m envious of you humans. Now, please. . . .â€

Hoshi looked at the digital countdown. There were twenty seconds to go. She looked into his grey eyes and realized that he didnâ€™t want to die. At this point, she would be murdering him.

â€œAre you sure?â€ she said blankly.

â€œYes, dammit.â€

She tapped a button, and the countdown ceased. She closed her eyes and leaned against the console as the door opened. She felt only disappointment.

****

A few days later, Trip and Tâ€™Pol spent their last evening in Mississippi having a quiet dinner with Elaine and Charlie. Once the pecan pie had been finished and the dishes were done, the four of them retired to the front porch to enjoy after dinner drinks and the cool evening air.

â€œHave you seen the latest headlines, son?â€ asked Charlie causally.

Trip shook his head.

â€œIâ€™ve been avoiding the news. Didnâ€™t want anything to spoil my vacation.â€

â€œAn interesting story came across the wire today. It seems that Jonathan Archer has been promoted to Admiral,â€ said Elaine.

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow and glanced at Trip. She had encouraged to him to tell his parents of his promotion, but he wanted to wait until the last minute so they wouldnâ€™t have time to make a huge fuss or worse, begin to worry. Now, it seemed the media had been the one to tell Charlie and Elaine. Tâ€™Pol sipped her wine and waited.

â€œDid it happen to say who the new captain of the Enterprise is?â€ said Trip, grinning.

Elaine reached over and gently smacked Trip on the arm.

â€œWhy didnâ€™t you say anything?â€

â€œI was going to tonight,â€ said Trip, â€œI just didnâ€™t want you guys to make a big deal about it.â€

Elaine looked at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI thought keeping secrets was illogical,â€ she said with a hint of playfulness in her voice, â€œWe could have announced something at the party! Everyone would have been thrilled. . .â€

Trip gestured a firm no.

â€œI got the promotion because thereâ€™s a war on. Itâ€™s hardly reason to celebrate,â€ he sighed, â€œbut Iâ€™m glad youâ€™re proud.â€

Charlie sighed, too, and then he lifted his glass.

â€œRegardless, son. Weâ€™re happy for you. Congratulations,â€ he said.

The earlier enthusiasm had drained from his voice. Trip was right about the war, and this promotion probably meant that Trip would be under more stress and in more danger than he had been as chief engineer.

Elaine turned to Tâ€™Pol, but before she could speak, her daughter-in-law anticipated the question.

â€œI shall remain aboard Enterprise as first officer,â€ she said, â€œStarfleet believes our personal relationship will not interfere with ship operations.â€

â€œThank goodness for that,â€ said Elaine,â€Iâ€™d hate to see you two separated.â€

â€œStarfleet knew we wouldnâ€™t stay if we were to be separated,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œSo, they will station us together.â€

â€œWise decision,â€ said Charlie, â€œDo you two know where youâ€™ll go next? What part of space?â€

Trip shook his head.

â€œWeâ€™ll be part of Jonathanâ€™s new fleet, but where weâ€™ll be going will probably depend on the Romulans.â€

â€œWho are these people? What to they want? Why have they been attacking? The press just seems to print speculation,â€ said Elaine.

Trip and Tâ€™Pol again looked at each other, knowing how much they were forbidden to say.

â€œThey come from the Beta Quadrant. They have an empire. I guess there are no more worlds to conquer there, and they are coming after us. The best guess is they need more resources, more energy, more labor.â€

Charlie took a long drink from his beer.

â€œTheyâ€™re fools. I never thought anything would unite this quadrant. Now it seems Vulcans and Andorians and Humans and Tellarites. . .all can agree on one thing. Weâ€™ve got to stop these Romulans.â€

â€œWe will stop them,â€ said Trip, â€œOur position is a defensive one, so weâ€™ve got the advantage. Itâ€™s not going to be easy, but we will win.â€

Tâ€™Pol could sense that Trip was verbalizing this as much for his own benefit as his parents. She didnâ€™t like the unsettled nature of his thoughts, so she resolved to change the subject. They were leaving for Ireland in the morning.

â€œAgain, I would like to thank you both for your hospitality and for welcoming me to into your family.â€

Elaine reached over and hugged Tâ€™Pol.

â€œYou keep an eye on my boy,â€ she said, â€œMake sure he comes back in one piece.â€

Tâ€™Pol squeezed back, as she knew that is what a human would expect.

â€œI shall do my best to honor that request,â€ she said.

****

Malcolm sat in his office watching the security video for the fourth time. It had been only that morning that it had been uploaded to him with the Romulan translations. He hadnâ€™t been certain what to expect, but he was certainly not expecting what he saw.

The Romulan had talked Hoshi out of throwing them both out the airlock; at least, that was what the UTâ€™s translation seemed to indicate. Normally, procedure would be to have it manually translated but the only human who spoke Romulan was Hoshi, and she had given only the thinest of details about the incident in the airlock.

For that, Malcolm was furious with her. And now, he was also terrified for her. Mostly, however, he was enraged with himself. He knew she had been bottling up her emotions, and he knew that she was dealing with . . .something. But in his mind he had made that something all about himself or about Enme. He now realized that whatever was going on in her head had little to do with either men.

Malcolm wasnâ€™t a psychologist, but he found himself looking up various definitions of and treatments for post traumatic stress disorder.

He stood up, and he walked intently through the halls until he found himself at the door of Enmeâ€™s quarters.

He was one of the few people who had clearance to see the prisoner, who he found at the desk reading from a PADD. At his own request, Enme had been provided with some works of human literature in translation.

â€œHello, Lt. Commander Reed,â€ said Enme, â€œIâ€™ve been expecting you. I assume youâ€™ve finally gotten a look at the security video from the airlock.â€

Reed pulled up a chair and sat down.

â€œYour girlfriend nearly killed me,â€ said Enme.

â€œYou asked her to,â€ said Reed.

Enme sat back. He couldnâ€™t argue with that, so he stayed silent.

â€œHow serious was she? Was she really going to. . . ? You saw the look in her eyes, tell me the truth.â€

Enme held up the PADD.

â€œI was just reading an English language poem called â€˜Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night,â€™â€ he said, â€œItâ€™s about savoring every moment of life, no matter how close oneâ€™s death or how much pain one is in.â€

â€œIâ€™ve read it,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œYou ought to give it to Hoshi,â€ said Enme.

That was all Malcolm needed to hear, and he got up and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned back to the prisoner.

â€œThank you,â€ he said, â€œI owe you for saving her life.â€

Enme said nothing.

****

Tâ€™Pol stared at the man who sat across from her in the wooden booth of a cozy Irish Pub in the Temple Bar neighborhood of Dublin. His resemblance to Trip was remarkable. She estimated he was about a half-an inch shorter, with a wider nose and a longer jaw, but anyone who saw them side by side would realize they were brothers. There were other differences between the two besides the natural ones. Albertâ€™s hair, the same color as Tripâ€™s, was shoulder length, and he wore a dapper tweed suit that Tâ€™Pol knew Trip would not have been caught dead wearing. She also noticed that Albertâ€™s hands, with which he grasped a pint of Guinness, were not only un-calloused but manicured.

The pub, which had stone walls and low ceilings with wooden rafters, wasnâ€™t very crowded. A few older men sat at the bar, and a couple of students occupied another booth. Tâ€™Pol took a drink of her own Guinness, and she set the glass down.

â€œItâ€™s an acquired taste,â€ said Bert who had not lost his drawl after years in Dublin, â€œand you donâ€™t have to acquire it.â€

â€œNo visit to Dublin is complete without a pint,â€ said Trip, hoisting his own pint of the bitter, dark liquid.

â€œThis beverage was used as meal replacement for the poor, was it not?â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œItâ€™s like drinking a loaf of bread,â€ said Bert, â€œbut really, we can get you some tea or cider.â€

Tâ€™Pol locked eyes with her brother-in-law and saw some of Tripâ€™s mischief there.

â€œThat will not be necessary,â€ she stated, â€œI would like my visit to Dublin to be complete.â€

Tâ€™Pol shivered. Her civilian clothes didnâ€™t protect her from Earth temperatures the way her Starfleet uniform did. Unlike Mississippi, which was hot and humid, Ireland proved to be cool and damp. A drizzle had driven them inside the pub as they walked to Bert and Ianâ€™s apartment from the transport station.

Their bags would be delivered to the building later in the day. Bert and Ianâ€™s son, Thomas, would not return from school for another two hours. Ian would return home an hour after that.

Trip took his jacket off and put it around Tâ€™Polâ€™s shoulders.

â€œWeâ€™ll have to get you one of the famous Irish sweaters while youâ€™re here,â€ said Bert.

Tâ€™Pol blinked. She had seen sheep before, and she wasnâ€™t at all certain a garment made from their wool would be comfortable.

â€œTâ€™Pol prefers silk,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™m pretty sure sheâ€™s got every kind of silk from this quadrant represented in her civilian wardrobe. . .Vulcan, Triaxian, Tholian, Terran, even Andorian. Come to think of it, how did you come by that Andorian silk dress, given the hostility between your two races?â€

â€œIt was for sale at a Tellarite market,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol, â€œConsidering the temperature, I might be willing to try cashmere garment,â€ she said.

â€œThat would be cheating,â€ said Bert, playfully, â€œSince cashmere goats arenâ€™t native to this island. But I can find you a terrific Donegal tweed jacket. It will match your eyes.â€

â€œThat would be agreeable,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol.

â€œSo, Captain,â€ said Bert, â€œWhat can you tell me about this war the news has been talking about? Do you think these Romulans will make it this far into the quadrant? Are we in danger?â€

Trip drank his pint, slowly.

â€œI wouldnâ€™t bet against them getting at least a few ships this far,â€ he said, â€œbut thanks to the Alliance, I think weâ€™re in a pretty good defensive position.â€

Bert sipped on his pint in much the same way as his brother.

â€œAfter the Xindi, I thought things would settle down. . .that weâ€™d have some quiet. We sure were spoiled as kids, werenâ€™t we? Not a care in the world.â€

â€œNobody ever wrote any good novels or made any good movies about that era,â€ replied Trip, â€œThey had to go back to World War III to find the prerequisite angst. I hear a novel about the Xindi attack won the Turner Prize this year. You ought to have Ian start one on the Romulan War, heâ€™ll be a shoe-in.â€

Bert smiled. His husband was a professor of literature at Trinity College, and he had written several critically acclaimed novels that no one had read.

â€œYou, Lizzie and I didnâ€™t have a clue how lucky were were,â€ said Bert ruefully, â€œNow Tommy looks up to the sky and feels fear instead of wonder. Itâ€™s a damn shame.â€

Tâ€™Pol reached under the table and slipped her hand into Tripâ€™s, and she felt a terrible sadness in him over his nephewâ€™s fears.

â€œPerhaps Trip can talk to him,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œas we have seen some truly fascinating and aesthetically pleasing things during our travels. It would be incorrect for him to believe that outer worlds hold only danger.â€

Bert smiled.

â€œThatâ€™s why Iâ€™m so glad youâ€™re here, Tâ€™Pol,â€ said Bert, â€œso Tommy can see that Earth has many friends out there in the galaxy, including your people.â€

â€œI am honored,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand I will be happy to tell the boy anything he wishes about Vulcan.â€

Tâ€™Pol looked out the window, and she noticed it was no longer drizzling. It was pouring down rain.

â€œAt least youâ€™re getting typical Dublin weather,â€ said Bert, â€œbut no rain, no rainbows. Now, we might just see a rainbow on the walk home. Until then, I think we have time for another round. This time, Iâ€™ll order you tea, Tâ€™Pol.â€

****

Malcolm rang the chime on Hoshiâ€™s door.

â€œCome in,â€ said Hoshi cheerfully.

He entered her quarters and saw her in her civilian clothes - a flowered dress and heels. She looked beautiful.

â€œI thought we were going to go somewhere nicer than the mess,â€ she said, noticing he was still in his uniform, â€œThereâ€™s a Brazilian place on deck ten. I want to try it.â€

â€œWe can go there,â€ said Malcolm, â€œwe can go wherever you like.â€

Malcolm was the only person besides Hoshi and Enme who knew what had transpired in the turbolift, and clearly, she didnâ€™t know that he knew.

â€œHow are you feeling?â€ he asked.

â€œFine,â€ she said, â€œLike I said earlier, thereâ€™s no need to make a big deal about the other day. Iâ€™ve been through worse. Lots worse.â€

Malcolm walked over and sat down on the bed. He gestured for her to join him. She did, and while she was at it, she cuddled up next to him. She leaned up to kiss him, but he spoke first.

â€œSo, you havenâ€™t had the urge to throw yourself out the airlock?â€

She stiffened in his arms.

â€œI . . .I was only trying to get him to. . .â€

â€œI saw the tape with a translation, and I talked to him. He thought you were serious.â€

She looked up at him, expecting anger, and she was ready for a fight. Instead, she saw a mixture of concern, fear and love. The denial on her lips disappeared, and she felt tears forming.

â€œItâ€™s all right,â€ he said.

She shook her head no, and he gently wiped away the tears.

â€œThere are lots of ways to get better from this,â€ he continued, â€œIâ€™ve been researching it. Iâ€™m not an expert by any means, but Iâ€™m not going anywhere. And weâ€™ll find you an expert to talk to first thing in the morning. No one else will have to know.â€

She was going to argue, but she found she couldnâ€™t form the words. She settled back into his arms, and he felt her relax.

â€œOkay,â€ she whispered.

â€œGood,â€ he said, â€œand maybe in a little while, we can head down to that Brazilian place, if youâ€™re feeling up to it.â€

She nodded, still silent, but for the first time in her life, she felt like she didnâ€™t have to be perfect to be loved.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t Own, Not Mine

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Don’t Own, Not Mine

Rating: PG-13ish.  


* * *

Ravel stood before The ProConsul as he read the report she had supplied, and she watched as his face turned from tense concern to relief.

â€œSo, she survived somehow and was taken from the planet by her human companions,â€ he said, â€œAfter the explosion?â€

â€œOur sources indicate that. We didnâ€™t learn of her survival until Enterprise returned to the Sol System. The shipâ€™s captain has been promoted to Admiral, and Tâ€™Polâ€™s husband is the new captain.â€

The ProConsul wasnâ€™t surprised by this. He had been impressed by Tâ€™Polâ€™s husband, despite the reports he had gotten about humans. He thought Earth would make a fine addition to the Empire, once broken, but he also had come to believe they would not be so easy to break - especially after meeting Captain Tucker. The other members of the High Council had scoffed at his warnings, assuming the upcoming conflict would be over quickly.

â€œWhat about my son?â€ he asked.

â€œWe have no report of him, one way or another,â€ said Ravel, â€œbut if your daughter survived, itâ€™s possible that your son may have been with her. If so, it would be reasonable to assume he had been taken prisoner by the people who retrieved her from the planet.â€

The ProConsul felt an unusual mixture of hope and fear. He hoped his son was alive, but if he was, he feared that Enme was a prisoner of the humans. As such, he might as well be dead.

â€œWe have very few intelligence sources on Earth,â€ she said, â€œand none have reported anything about a Romulan prisoner, but Iâ€™ll keep seeking more information.â€

â€œDo that,â€ said the ProConsul.

****

Bert and Ian lived in a spacious, garden apartment tucked away on a cobblestoned side street. Paper books lined the walls in wooden shelves, sharing space with Tommyâ€™s football trophies and some family photos. Tâ€™Pol noticed one of Trip, Bert and Lizzie when they were university age.

â€œTell me, Bert,â€ she said, â€œHow is it that you werenâ€™t named Charles Tucker III, since you are the oldest boy?â€

Bert laughed.

â€œI get asked that now and then,â€ he said, â€œMy motherâ€™s grandfather Albert died the week I was born, so I was named for him. Our dad insisted. Then, when Trip was born, our mom insisted he be Charles Tucker III.â€

Tâ€™Pol examined the photograph.

â€œThat was taken at Lizzieâ€™s graduation from Carnegie Mellon,â€ said Bert.

The front door flew open, and a red-headed adolescent boy bounded into the living room. He was dressed in a school uniform, with a long striped scarf. His hair was damp, and his shoes were muddy.

â€œHeya, Kid,â€ said Trip, hugging the boy briefly as he squirmed but grinned.

â€œHi, Uncle Trip,â€ said Tommy.

Bert folded his arms.

â€œShoes?â€

Tommy nodded, and he leaned over and removed his shoes and took them to the mat by the door. Trip gestured to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œThis is your Aunt Tâ€™Pol,â€ said Trip.

â€œHello,â€ said Tommy, not meeting her eyes, â€œIs Da home?â€

â€œNot yet,â€ said Bert.

Bert was Dad and Ian was Da.

â€œI hear you have a game tomorrow,â€ said Trip, â€œWhat do you say to having your American Uncle there to cheer you on?â€

â€œI thought you only followed American football.â€ said Tommy.

â€œI know the rules of your kind of football,â€ said Trip, â€œI think Iâ€™ll be able to follow. I hear youâ€™re developing into quite a defensive player.â€

Tommy smiled shyly at this.

â€œHeâ€™s the best in his league. The upper division coaches are already sniffing around. So, Tâ€™Pol,â€ said Bert, â€œWould you be up for watching a match tomorrow? I donâ€™t know if they have anything like football on Vulcan.â€

Tâ€™Pol turned to Bert.

â€œBall sports are common in most humanoid cultures,â€ she said, â€œand we have several similar sports. But I would be interested in watching the young men play this game that is so popular here on Earth.â€

â€œTommy,â€ said Bert, â€œGo get cleaned up. Iâ€™m making a special dinner tonight.â€

Tommy raced off to his room.

â€œHe appears to be a fine boy,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œYou must be proud.â€

â€œWe are,â€ said Bert, â€œI sometimes wish heâ€™d spend more time on his studies than on sport. . .but at least heâ€™s interested in something. And very good at it. By the way, did you know Trip played American Football in college?â€

Tâ€™Pol turned to her husband.

â€œNo,â€ she said.

â€œJust for one season,â€ he said, â€œand it was at Starfleet Academy. It was a new school that was hardly a Big Ten. We did cream Stanford one time, though.â€

â€œYou shall have to tell me the story,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

****

Malcolm and Hoshi dined at a classic French Bistro that had a great view of Europa, with the other moons in the distance. Hoshi was mostly quiet.

â€œYou donâ€™t have to tell me,â€ he said, â€œbut how did it go with the doctor?â€

â€œHeâ€™s not a doctor, heâ€™s a psychologist,â€ said Hoshi, â€œA Phd. I have a Phd.â€

Malcolm took a sip of his lobster bisque. Her answer didnâ€™t sound promising.

â€œItâ€™s not in clinical psychology,â€ he replied.

â€œTrue,â€ she said, â€œIt was fine. I told him all about the incident in the airlock, and he said I have PTSD, which you already thought just by looking stuff up in the database.â€

â€œDo you think he can help you? We can always find someone else. There are a few more shrinks on the station. . .â€

Hoshi had also ordered the lobster bisque, and she sipped on hers.

â€œNo,â€ she said, her voice softening, â€œItâ€™ll be fine.â€

â€œAre you sure?â€ he replied, an edge to his voice.

For months, she had insisted she was fine when she wasnâ€™t fine. He wasnâ€™t going to let her deflect him. He couldnâ€™t live with himself if something happened to her.

â€œHeâ€™s a smart guy. He wants to see me everyday until weâ€™re redeployed, so that Iâ€™ll be on my way to recovery by then. He doesnâ€™t think I need medication, just some heavy talk-therapy.â€

She paused, but he sensed she had more to say.

â€œSometimes the sessions are designed to have a family member or significant other attend. . .my parents are on Earth and they donâ€™t put much stock in psychology anyway. . .could you. . . maybe?â€

â€œIâ€™d be happy to. . .we agreed right. Weâ€™re both in this. So you need just tell me where and when.â€

For the first time in a long time, Hoshi smiled and she felt it, all of it.

â€œSo what do you think itâ€™s going to be like with Trip in the big chair?â€ she asked.

Malcolm smiled.

â€œThere was a time when I never thought Iâ€™d say this, but I am going to miss Archer. But Trip has always done well in the big chair. I trust him.â€

Hoshi nodded.

â€œItâ€™s not like we wonâ€™t see Admiral Archer, weâ€™ll be in his fleet.â€

â€œI do wonder how it will be to have the first officer and captain married to each other. Starfleet must trust them a whole lot,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œI donâ€™t think theyâ€™d ever let two humans be in those positions. But Tâ€™Pol being a Vulcan, they trust her to not let her emotions interfere with their work.â€

â€œYou think so?â€ said Malcolm, â€œI suppose that could be true. . . .

The conversation gradually turned to the war, their colleagues and what lay ahead. It felt very normal to both of them, and they were both grateful for that.

****

The next morning, Tâ€™Pol rose early and began meditating in the sun-bathed garden. Trip and Bert had stayed up very late talking, and she and Ian had both retired early to give them a chance to catch up. Consequently, Trip was still sleeping when made her way into the garden.

She had been there a good while when she opened her eyes. She heard someone behind her.

â€œTommy?â€ she asked without turning around.

â€œHowâ€™d you know it was me?â€

â€œI have a strong sense or hearing,â€ she said, â€œand your footsteps are lighter than the adults in the house.â€

She was seated on a garden bench, and he came and sat next to her.

â€œYouâ€™re the first alien Iâ€™ve ever met. Iâ€™ve seen a couple in the streets,â€ he said, â€œbut Iâ€™ve never met one.â€

â€œIt can be gratifying to meet other species,â€ she said, â€œIt helps open your mind to new possibilities.â€

Tommy looked over his shoulder.

â€œYou shouldnâ€™t come to the game,â€ he said in a whisper.

â€œWhy not?â€

Tommy took a deep breath.

â€œLast year, when the thing happened to you and Uncle Trip. The thing with Terra Prime, some of the boys on my team said Uncle Trip deserved it because shagging an alien is sick and wrong. . .and that it was better that your baby had died because she was. . .a freak.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing.

â€œIâ€™m not telling you to upset you,â€ continued Tommy.

â€œIâ€™m not capable of feeling upset, Tommy,â€ she said, â€œIâ€™m a Vulcan.â€

â€œBut Uncle Trip is capable of being upset. Some of the other boys on my team are real wankers. . .and if one of them said anything to you, it would upset him and then Dad would get involved and it would. . .turn into a bloody interplanetary incident.â€

â€œYou are thoughtful to worry about your Uncle Tripâ€™s feelings.â€

Tommy didnâ€™t respond, he just kicked the ground with his shoe.

â€œMay I ask if you are upset he married a Vulcan?â€

Tommy wrinkled his brow, and he spoke very slowly.

â€œNo. . .itâ€™s just that people . . .people can be wankers, thatâ€™s all. I donâ€™t want Uncle Trip to have to be dealing with them all the time. Or you for that matter. You seem nice. Dad said he was sure that you must be the prettiest Vulcan ever or Trip wouldnâ€™t have married you.â€

â€œI hope Trip married me for reasons beyond my appearance. You should also know our crewmates have been very accepting of our marriage, as have many of my people. Not all of them. But we have been gratified by those who have. â€

Tommy said nothing. Tâ€™Pol reached over to a bag she had with her and pulled out her PADD.

â€œThis morning I received a report from Ambassador Soval. I should very much like some quiet time to review the document, which is 10,728 Vulcan words long. I believe I will read it while your uncle and fathers attend your football match.â€

Tommy looked at her skeptically.

â€œYou really donâ€™t want to go?â€

â€œI do wish to attend, but Iâ€™m afraid my work takes priority.â€

Tommyâ€™s face softened, and he appeared to relax. They sat in quiet for a long while.

â€œUncle Trip says youâ€™re really good at organic chemistry.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œMaybe after the game you could help me study. Iâ€™ve got an exam next week . . . â€œ

â€œI would be happy to Tommy,â€ she said.

****

That night as Trip and Tâ€™Pol prepared for bed in the small, cozy guest room, she spoke to him in a whisper.

â€œVulcan Intelligence and Starfleet Intelligence have been given clearance to attempt background negotiations with the Romulans.â€

Trip leaned forward.

â€œThat was what was in your report?â€

She nodded.

â€œThey wish for us to return to Jupiter Station by Monday. They intend to use my brother as a conduit to the Romulan government. I have been asked to help facilitate the contact.â€

She showed him the PADD, which contained the Vulcan text. He had acquired a basic familiarity of the language and could read the pertinent passages.

â€œI think itâ€™s a waste of time. Romulans seem more stubborn than Vulcans. I donâ€™t think heâ€™ll cooperate,â€ he said.

â€œAn incident occurred recently,â€ she said, â€œMy brother escaped and apparently planned to commit suicide. Romulan culture dictates this of prisoners. But he did not complete the act.â€

Trip took a deep breath.

â€œThey think heâ€™s softening?â€

â€œWe shall see. No one believes the chances for negotiation are good, but given the possible consequences of this war, all of the allies believe we must try.â€

Trip hated the idea of cutting their vacation short, but he saw the need. He also found himself a little nervous to be returning to the ship as its captain.

â€œI guess the whole crew knows Iâ€™m the new captain,â€ he said, â€œMalcolm sent me a congratulatory text.â€

â€œThey trust you, and they will follow you as they did Archer,â€ she said soothingly.

Trip slid under the big, white comforter, and he beckoned her to join him.

â€œI hope so. . .this cool Irish air isnâ€™t bothering you?â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, snuggling next to him.

â€œItâ€™s bothering me. I donâ€™t know how Bert adjusted to this having grown up in Florida.â€

â€œIt is unusual for me, but I have visited many environments and have learned to adjust.â€

â€œWell,â€ he said, â€œReason number #122 that I love you. Your high body temperature. You make an excellent bedwarmer, in addition to being a great wife.â€

She wasnâ€™t sure what to make of being compared to an inanimate object, but his tone was playful.

â€œSorry you missed the game,â€ he said as he drifted off to sleep, â€œTommyâ€™s team is really something.â€

â€œHopefully next time we visit,â€ she whispered, â€œIt will be possible for me to attend.â€


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Not mine

Rating: R to NC-17 for gratuitous TnT sex and R/S sex.

A/N: The plot moves along slowly, but TnT just had to christen their new quarters on Enterprise.  


* * *

Maleek of Romulus fidgeted nervously in his chair as he waited to see the ProConsul. He had been slightly nauseated ever since he had received the missive from Stonâ€™s father about the incident on the space station with Stonâ€™s sister and the humans. The man wanted to know what happened, and Maleek knew he wasnâ€™t going to be happy.

He heard footsteps. First, a pair of Remans appeared in the grand doorway and then came Stonâ€™s father, a stern and impressive man if there ever was one. Behind him was an attractive woman in an Imperial Guard uniform.

Maleek stood up, ready to tell the whole, awful truth - a truth that very well might condemn his old friend Ston to death.

_Better him than me_ , thought Maleek like a good Romulan.

â€œThe first thing I need to ask you,â€ said the ProConsul, â€œis which of my sons gave the humans a dilithium sample. Which one?â€

Maleek had decided on the truth, come what may.

â€œSton did. Enme had nothing to do with it.â€

The ProConsul nodded.

â€œTell me everything, now,â€ he said.

Maleek began, sparing no details.

****

Enterprise was empty. The few members of the crew who werenâ€™t on Earth had been billeted on Jupiter Station during the refit and upgrades. Now, the work was complete, and no one, not even a stray maintenance worker remained aboard. The first person to step aboard was to be her new captain, followed by his Vulcan first officer.

â€œIs it okay to admit I feel like Archer should be here?â€ said Trip.

â€œIt is to be expected, Captain,â€ she said, â€œbut soon enough you will learn to think of Enterprise as your ship. You always thought of the engines as such, you need only extend the sentiment.â€

â€œYou know,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™m going to miss engineering. Iâ€™m sure Hess will take good care of the engines. But promise if you ever see me trying to do her job, stop me.â€

â€œI shall consider that an order, Captain,â€ said Tâ€™Pol as they reached the bridge.

Trip approached the the captainâ€™s chair, but he didnâ€™t sit down. He looked back at Tâ€™Pol who had taken her place at the science station.

â€œYouâ€™ve sat there before, Captain,â€

â€œYes,â€ he said, â€œbut never as the official captain. And never with you there watching me.â€

She raised an eyebrow.

â€œShall I leave?â€

Trip smiled at her.

â€œNo.â€

He sat down.

â€œIt doesnâ€™t feel any different,â€ he said.

â€œOf course not,â€ she said, â€œItâ€™s the same chair that has always been there. Of course, you could readjust it for your height. You are several inches taller than Admiral Archer.â€

Trip sat back, amused at her literal Vulcan mind.

â€œI might do that. When are you meeting Malcolm and the Section 31 spooks again?â€

â€œThe first briefing will occur at 0800 tomorrow. Only Lt. Commander Reed, Ensign Sato and representatives from Tellarite and Andorian intelligence will be there. Even Admiral Archer will not attend.â€

â€œGlad to see Iâ€™m not the only one who wasnâ€™t invited. . . I hear our things have been moved into the newly expanded Captainâ€™s quarters. Shall we take a look?â€

â€œYes, Captain.â€

Trip got out of the chair, and Tâ€™Pol followed him, hands behind her back.

â€œYou wouldnâ€™t consider calling me Trip when no one is around, would you?â€

â€œNot while we are on duty or in non-personal space. Once inside our new quarters, I will call you Trip if it will make you happy, Captain.â€

â€œItâ€™ll make me happy, dar. . .Commander.â€

****

â€œMaybe I should ask Phlox if one of his creatures can cure PTSD,â€ said Hoshi, â€œThat was exhausting.â€

They had just reached Malcolmâ€™s quarters after spending two hours with the therapist. His methodology was to have Hoshi spend an hour reliving the events with the Xindi while he and Malcolm listened, then they spent an hour talking about what kinds of experiences triggered memories of those events. Malcolm had been there to provide the support a clinician simply could not. He had been very impressed at how cooperative Hoshi had been during the process, and he felt that she was making real progress, though he wanâ€™t an expert.

â€œCare to come in, luv?â€

â€œI was hoping youâ€™d ask,â€ she said.

They entered together, and she sat down at the little table in front of the window. It had a view of Enterprise as she was docked.

â€œIâ€™ll make you some tea,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ve got Vulcan, Japanese and British varieties. Take your pick.â€

â€œVulcan,â€ she said, â€œI donâ€™t want any caffeine. I want to sleep well for tomorrow.â€

â€œIâ€™m glad you are feeling up to it. But if you feel like you canâ€™t handle it, weâ€™ll use the UT.â€

â€œIâ€™m the only person in this system besides Enme who speaks Romulan. Itâ€™s my job to be there. Besides, I think I might be able to help. He clearly likes me, and I might be able to convince him to help us.â€

Malcolm felt a twinge of insecurity but then pushed it aside as he poured boiling water into his teapot. She was with him, not the Romulan. He glanced at Hoshi out of the corner of his eye. She appeared oblivious to his jealously - probably because he had no reason to be jealous.

â€œI donâ€™t want you to do anything that will . . . .â€ he stopped.

She stood up and moved to stand next to him.

â€œIâ€™ll do anything to help. If it means opening up negotiations, if it means possibly ending this conflict. . .then my mental state has to come second. You know that. But really, I will be fine.â€

Malcolm stared at her.

â€œYou would do the same, and I donâ€™t think youâ€™d love me as much if I werenâ€™t willing to put myself in harmâ€™s way for the greater good. Thatâ€™s what we do. Itâ€™s our job.â€

â€œI do love you,â€ he said, leaning over and kissing her.

â€œAnd I love you,â€ she whispered into the kiss.

He pulled back.

â€œI mean it,â€ she said, â€œNobodyâ€™s ever stuck by me the way you have. Nobodyâ€™s ever. . .I love you, all right?â€

Malcolm bit his lip. The second time, he started to believe it.

He pulled her into a far harder and more passionate kiss, and soon their hands found the zippers of their uniforms, which they wiggled out of in record time. He carried her to his bed and laid her gently down. Before joining her, he took one of her tiny feet and began massaging it.

â€œHow many different languages can you say it in?â€

She had to think about it for a moment.

â€œForty-seven. I think. Maybe forty-six. Iâ€™m not sure the Axinars have a word for love in the way we understand it.â€

â€œForty-six,â€ he said, â€œThatâ€™s a lot. I plan to make you say it in all of them.â€

He crawled up on the bed and began planting kisses up her legs and to her inner thighs.

â€œHow are you going to make me?â€

â€œI have some ideas,â€ he said.

****

Trip sprawled on the big bed in their new quarters and looked out the expansive window. Instead of his cramped office in engineering, he now had a ready room, spacious quarters and his own private mess.

â€œThis is way better than the two bunks they pushed together to make our old bed.â€

â€œItâ€™s a new mattress,â€ said Tâ€™Pol who was looking around at what were her new quarters as well, â€œThe old one smelled of the Admiralâ€™s beagle.â€

â€œArcher had a dog. I have a wife,â€ he said patting the bed, â€œI think Iâ€™m the luckier captain. Hey, how do you know what the Captainâ€™s bed smelled like?â€

Even just a few months earlier, she would have been dismayed by an implication that she had been unfaithful to her bondmate, but she recognized the teasing nature of the question. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

â€œI could smell Porthosâ€™s scent from the door,â€ she replied smoothly.

Trip sometimes liked to bring up a potential attraction between her and Archer just so he could sense the lack-of-attraction that would course through her mind. Archer may have been the superior officer and great hero of the Xindi conflict, but the lowly chief engineer had won the heart of the first officer. It was an uneven exchange, with himself getting the better bargain.

â€œI always envied the captain that shower,â€ said Trip, â€œnow itâ€™s my shower. Our shower.â€

Tâ€™Pol stood up and walked to the tiled enclosure.

â€œIt's much more spacious than the shower in our previous quarters,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWe did make good use of our old one,â€ said Trip, â€œIâ€™m going to miss it.â€

â€œIt is illogical to miss a shower,â€ she said.

â€œI guess weâ€™ll just have to make new memories in this one,â€ he said, getting up on his elbows.

â€œIs that an order, Captain?â€

â€œI thought I told you to call me Trip when we were in our quarters,â€ he said, â€œbut yes, letâ€™s consider the shower thing an order.â€

Tâ€Pol unzipped the front of her uniform and carefully removed it. She hung it on a hanger in the small closet, and then removed the bottom portion of the uniform and her boots, putting them away as well. She stood in her grey, Starfleet-issue underwear for a moment before she strode over to the shower and set the control for Vulcan body temperature plus 5 percent. She then stood at her Vulcan at-ease posture.

â€œAny more orders, Captain?â€

Trip stood up and walked toward her.

â€œTake my uniform off,â€ he said, effecting his best captainâ€™s tone.

She obeyed, unzipping his jumpsuit and gracefully removing the garment before hanging it next to hers. The temperature in the room was set for human comfort, and Trip noticed that her nipples had become hard in the chill.

â€œAnything else, Captain?â€

Trip ran his hand down her arms and then slowly across the top of her chest. The steam from the shower was filling the room.

â€œIâ€™m going to have to handle the next step myself,â€ he said as he pulled off her top.

He then reached down and cupped her face in his hands and kissed her very deeply. Their tongues danced for a long while, and then he broke the kiss so he could remove her bottoms as well. He then pulled off his Starfleet blues.

â€œNow,â€ he said, â€œTurn around and get under the water.â€

She followed his command, but she looked back at him.

â€œDid I say you could turn around, Commander?â€

She raised an eyebrow, but she again faced the tiled wall. Trip came up behind her so he too was under the warm water. He squirted some soap from the dispenser into his hand and rubbed his hands together to create a lather.

â€œHands on the wall, Commander. And spread you legs wider.â€

She obeyed, and he slowly began to massage her back, applying pressure to the neural nodes he was so familiar with. Then, he moved down to her glutes and the back of her thighs, then back up to her back. He knew of one very sensitive neural node on her lower back. He pressed there, and she moaned and placed her head against the cool tile. As she did so, her rear end stuck out further and he took the opportunity to slide his hand down the crack and between her legs. He slipped a finger insider her and then two.

She writhed with pleasure as he stroked her, her eyes shut and her breathing erratic. He had wanted to draw this out, but the sight of her was too tempting. He removed his fingers, and she made a small noise in protest.

â€œSomethinâ€™ wrong, Commander?â€

She took a deep breath.

â€œNo. . .sir,â€ she whispered.

â€œYou must always be honest with your captain. Any requests youâ€™d like to make? Iâ€™m going to make it a point to try and accommodate the needs of my senior officers.â€

He grinned. Pure Vulcan irritation coursed through her mind.

â€œI wish to engage in sexual relations, Captain. Immediately.â€

He positioned himself behind her, and he pushed inside her. As many times as he felt it, he always gasped at the heat of her body. When he had gone as far as he could go, he whispered in her ear.

â€œAll you had to do was ask,â€ he said, then he gently bit the pointed tip.

She shivered and leaned further against the wall as he began to thrust. He reached around her body, caressing her with skilled fingers. When she came, she cried out something in her native language and nearly collapsed. He supported her with his strong arms as he climaxed into her. He pressed them both against the cool tile as the water washed over them in their mutual delirium.

A few minutes later, they had finished the bathing portion of the shower, and Trip dashed to the closet to retrieve a couple towels, making a mental note to remember them the next time. Tâ€™Pol turned off the water and he dried her off and wrapped her up.

â€œThank you, Captain.â€

â€œYou can call me, Trip now,â€ he said, his voice casual.

â€œThank you, Trip,â€ she said, drying him off, â€œWe shall not make a habit of bringing our ranks into our quarters.â€

He saw a hint of amusement in her eyes.

â€œNah,â€ he said, â€œbut once and awhile . . .â€

â€œThat would not be disagreeable,â€ she said, â€œbut remember, you promised to let me give the orders now and then. At least, when weâ€™re alone.â€

She kissed him lightly, and there was a mischievous promise in her eyes.

â€œA dealâ€™s a deal, baby,â€ he said as he gathered her up in his arms and placed her on their bed.

He crawled up next to her and kissed her slowly. His face turned serious.

â€œI donâ€™t think Iâ€™d be able to do this without you,â€ he said, â€œespecially with all the trouble ahead.â€

She caressed his face, and the true confidence she had in him entered his mind. He closed his eyes.

â€œDonâ€™t underestimate yourself, Thyâ€™la,â€ she said, â€œyou are the only person who could have replaced Jonathan Archer as captain of this vessel. He knows that. I know that. You must trust in that.â€

He held her close, and they both looked out at the stars for a long while. Then, they redressed in their uniforms, planning on returning to the station for dinner.

Before they left, Trip looked at himself in the mirror, taking special notice of the gold stripe and the new pip. The insecurity that had gripped him since his promotion faded away, and he knew that this was his vessel, his crew and his command. He was Captain.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Don’t own.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: And the plot moves forth.  


* * *

Tâ€™Pol sat across the table from her brother, plotting her next move on the chess board. What Enme didnâ€™t know what that outside his quarters were representatives from all the alliesâ€™s intelligence services. She had been sent in to gauge his mood. It wasnâ€™t long before he became transparent, in his Romulan way.

â€œBrother,â€ she said, â€œit seems you have made a suicidal move. Youâ€™ve left your queen wide open. I will be able to Checkmate you in nine moves, a fact that I believe you must know.â€

Enme sighed.

â€œIâ€™m merely bored with the game, sister,â€ said Enme, â€œPerhaps you could teach me another one. One that takes less than hours to complete the play. My people are not known for their patience.â€

Tâ€™Pol sat back in her chair.

â€œIt is strange, that we are the same species. Vulcans are perhaps most known for their patience.â€

Enme began cleaning up the pieces of the chess board. After a long silence, Tâ€™Pol spoke again.

â€œWould you be willing to help us open background negotiations with your people?â€

Enme sighed.

â€œIâ€™m not in a position to do so,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m supposed to be dead. Surely youâ€™ve had a report of that.â€

â€œBut you are not dead. This would indicate that things are not always as they are supposed to be among your people.â€

Enme stood up and looked out the window. He stood in silence for a long while. Then, he knelt down and took of one of his polished boots. He put it on the table.

â€œDo you have something I could pry the heel off with? Iâ€™m no longer even allowed a butter knife.â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow. She stood up and left her brotherâ€™s prison-quarters for a moment and returned with a flat screwdriver. Enme took it from her and pried open the shoe. From a compartment in the hell feel a ring much like the one her father had given her - only this one was designed for a man.

â€œA ring like this is out of uniform,â€ he said, â€œSo Iâ€™ve kept it hidden it in my heel.â€

â€œHe didnâ€™t tell me what it does.â€

â€œItâ€™s a kind of subspace communicator. It allows one to talk to him, where ever he is. For a brief time. The link drains the power, rendering the device useless.â€

â€œWill you use this to communicate with him?â€

â€œYou have one of these, am I right?â€

She nodded.

â€œThat means you have two chances to contact him. I canâ€™t do it. Heâ€™d consider that. . .weak of me. In fact, it seems to me that you must make it clear to him that I am being kept alive against my will. That might make him amenable to discussions about my well-being. But beyond that. I canâ€™t help you.â€

Enme pushed his ring toward her.

â€œThis is no good to me now, sister.â€

â€œWhy are you giving this to me?â€

Enme shrugged.

â€œIt seems I donâ€™t want to die. If the Empire conquers Earth. Iâ€™ll be dead.â€

****

In the crowded transport station, Maleek of Romulus was waiting for a transport ship to take him back to his small apartment on the eastern continent. He was very happy that he had told the ProConsul the truth, and that he would be done with that miserable family. He would be content to return to the life of a merchant, with no association with the aristocracy.

He looked at the chronometer. He had only an hour to wait.

Suddenly, in the rush of the crowded station, Maleek felt a prick on the back of his neck. Before he could even reach up to where the pain was, his breathing became labored. He only reached his hand halfway up his neck when it became paralyzed. He moved his eyes to the left, and he saw a young girl standing there, watching him. She was fidgeting with a needle in her hand.

The last thing Maleek saw was Bala smile and then put one hand gently on her stomach. Then it was dark.

****

Tâ€™Pol briefed the alliance intelligence agents about her contact with her brother, but she left out one key detail. She showed them her brotherâ€™s ring, but she omitted the fact that she had another one in her quarters. Her years of intelligence training had taught her that having a backup of something wasnâ€™t something you shared with your superiors or allies unless absolutely necessary. Only Hoshi, who was listening from the next room, would be privy to that fact, and Tâ€™Pol resolved to attempt to convince her to keep the secret for her. Hoshi would be expected to provide a transcript of Tâ€™Polâ€™s conversation with her brother but it was standard practice for some portions of the conversation to be redacted.

Another piece of information that would be redacted was her relationship to the prisoner. Starfleet and Section 31 knew, and the Vâ€™Shar knew, but the Andorians and Tellarites did not. Tâ€™Pol was glad that it was not widely known that she was half-Romulan.

When all but Malcolm and Hoshi had left, Tâ€™Pol felt she could relax somewhat.

Malcolm looked down at the ring.

â€œThis is amazing,â€ he said, â€œWe can contact a high ranking member of the Romulan government.â€

â€œThe prisoner advises us to us it directly, using him as a kind of . . .leverage. He claims however, if he appears to cooperate, it will neutralize that benefit.â€

Hoshi, who had been monitoring the communications between Tâ€™Pol and her brother from the next room, looked down at the ring in fascination. As a communications officer, she had never seen anything so small that could function as a subspace communicator.

â€œAnd you have one of these as well?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œThank you for not enlightening the others of that fact. The second ring might prove useful.â€

Malcolm sighed.

â€œSection 31 doesnâ€™t know about the second ring, do they?â€

Tâ€™Pol shook her head.

â€œAdmiral Archer knows, Captain Tucker knows and now you both know.â€

â€œThe brass wants to be in on any contact with the Romulans you make,â€ said Malcolm, â€œTheyâ€™ve assigned Admiral Archer as the point person.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œHeâ€™ll probably want to proceed immediately, as the fleet will be leaving the Sol System within two weeks.â€

None of them needed to say what they were all thinking, that the likelihood of any background negotiations succeeding were slim to none.

****

Trip was in his Ready Room, reading some mind-numbingly boring reports. He thought engineering requisitions were dull. Now, he had a PADD full of similar reports from every corner of the ship. Tâ€™Pol was responsible for organizing and writing the abstracts for most of them, but as Captain, he still had to be aware of 100x more information than he had as chief engineer.

He could at least be grateful that once the the ship left Jupiter Station, the requisitions would become much shorter.

The comm buzzed. The light indicated it was an ultra-secure frequency.

â€œThis is Captain Tucker,â€ he said.

â€œGood to hear your voice, Tripâ€ said Admiral Archer.

â€œYou too, Admiralâ€ he said, â€œI assume, though, this isnâ€™t a social call?â€

â€œNope. Iâ€™m keeping you in the loop. Starfleet Intelligence and Section 31 have made an unusual request of your XO.â€

â€œWhat?â€

â€œThey want her to make contact with the Romulan Star Empire. Sheâ€™s going to do so this afternoon. Iâ€™ll want you at the debriefing at 1500 hours. Conference Room 11B on the station. Iâ€™ll be there. But this is strictly an Earth operation for now. So itâ€™s going to be you, me, Malcolm and Hoshi.â€

Just like old times, thought Trip.

â€œIâ€™ll see you then, Admiral,â€ said Trip formally.

Archer nodded.

â€œArcher out.â€

Trip exhaled. This wasnâ€™t going to be easy for Tâ€™Pol, but he trusted that she would handle the situation.

****

Tâ€™Pol stared down at her brotherâ€™s ring. She was alone in a conference room that was equipped with high-tech listening devices. Hoshi would be listening and translating from the next room, although Tâ€™Pol had decided to speak with her father in Vulcan, as she knew he spoke that language like a native.

She activated the device. It began to glow and hum, but it did not do more than that precisely 35 minutes.

Then, burst of light came from the ring, and a shadowy hologram appeared. Though not the best quality, she recognized her fatherâ€™s image.

â€œI was not expecting you, dear one,â€ he said, â€œI was expecting my son, Enme. Is he dead?â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œHe is a prisoner of the alliance.â€

â€œOn Vulcan? Or Earth? Or perhaps Andoria or Teller?â€

Tâ€™Pol blinked. Clearly, he did not have the capacity to pinpoint her location.

â€œI cannot reveal that, but he is alive. He is being treated well, despite his uncooperative nature.â€

Relief washed over the ProConsulâ€™s face.

â€œHas he tried to take his own life?â€

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œit was prevented.â€

â€œWhy are you contacting me?â€

â€œThe Alliance wishes to open negotiations. If you would assist us, we would be willing to return your son to you.â€

â€œDo you know so little of us? We donâ€™t negotiate. We conquer.â€

â€œThe humans have a saying, thereâ€™s a first time for everything. You must know that this quadrant has been united like nothing in its history against your people. We will prevent your invasion. Even if you donâ€™t believe that, you know Vulcans well enough to know that I believe that we will. Vulcans are not known for self-delusion.â€

The ProConsul was silent for a moment.

â€œThere are limits to my power, daughter.â€

â€œWe are only asking you to open negotiations. Enmeâ€™s return would not be predicated on the outcome of those negotiations.â€

The PronConsul thought some more.

â€œIâ€™ve recently made an alliance with another family, one with several seats in both the senate and our high council. Iâ€™m also sitting on information that might make them uncomfortable if it were revealed. I might be able to persuade them to support negotiations. Do you still have the ring I gave you?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œIn three days time, contact me again. We shall proceed. Goodbye, dear one.â€

*****

Late that night, Trip and Tâ€™Pol returned to Enterprise after the long meeting. They had moved from Jupiter Station to the ship, though they were still the only members of the crew living aboard. Everyone else had chosen to enjoy the benefits of Jupiter Station while they still could. But as Captain, Trip wanted to live aboard his new command.

The meeting had gone well. Starfleet and the other Allies were going to propose the creation of a â€œneutral zoneâ€ between Romulan space and Alliance space. The hope was that if the Allies agreed to restrict trade, colonization and military activity to their side of the neutral zone, that the Romulans would see the benefit of doing the same. It was a still a long shot, but now they seemed to have the ear of at least one powerful Romulan, thanks entirely to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œTheir arrogance might be the biggest hurdle to negotiations. That and the pleasure they seem to get from conquest.â€

â€œWell,â€ said Trip, â€œAfter tomorrow, it will be for bigger heads than us to deal with. Archer. Soval. Tâ€™Pau. The President. . . .â€

They entered their quarters, and Tâ€™Polâ€™s body language immediately changed from Vulcan Commander to emotionally exhausted woman.

â€œYou look like you could use some meditation,â€ said Trip.

She nodded.

â€œIâ€™ve got a stack of reports to read. Go ahead. Iâ€™ll be around if you need me.â€

He kissed her on the forehead, and she disappeared into the next room. He heard her lighting candles and saw the soft glow of the flames emanating from the next room. He picked up his PADD, thinking that he should probably start meditating with her given the concentration his new position required.

****

â€œPoison?â€

Ravel nodded at the ProConsul. Neither of them were pleased with the murder of the one person who was a witness to Stonâ€™s treachery on Hirku Station.

â€œItâ€™s a specific kind, grown only on a colony administrated by Balaâ€™s family. In addition to that, the last time this particular poison was used as a murder weapon, the victim was a social activist who had begun to protest some of the policies of her family.â€

The ProConsul nodded, simultaneously infuriated with Ston and proud of him. Clearly, the boy was not going down without a fight. Nonetheless, the ProConsul planned on meeting with Balaâ€™s father in the morning and letting him know about Stonâ€™s treachery. The ProConsul would agree to a divorce, in exchange for Balaâ€™s family supporting the background negotiations with the Alliance. Ston wouldnâ€™t know what hit him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This world, its characters and most everything else is not mine.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: This world, its characters and most everything else is not mine.

Rating: R

A/N: More plot moving forward.

 

* * *

Enterprise, still in space dock at Jupiter Station, buzzed with activity. Captain Tucker had ordered everyone aboard, since the fleet could be ordered out toward Romulan space at any time.

Of course, Trip knew that that wasnâ€™t likely to happen until the negotiations commenced, but he knew they needed to be ready. He also feared that with Romulan cloaking technology - and its always changing phase frequencies - a sneak attack was not out of the question. The NX-02 was still out patrolling no-manâ€™s land and the NX-03, The Endeavor, was fresh out of space dock and sporting a completely green crew. Enterpriseâ€™s crew, on the other hand, was combat seasoned.

â€œGood Morning, Captain,â€ said Malcolm as he strode into the Ready Room.

â€œMorninâ€™, Malcolm,â€ said Trip, â€œAny news from the spooks on the negotiations that arenâ€™t supposed to be happening?â€

â€œNothing yet,â€ said Malcolm, â€œCommander Tâ€™Pol doesnâ€™t plan to make contact for another two to three hours. Sheâ€™s waiting for the final proposal from the coalition, so it can be transmitted immediately.â€

Trip sipped on his coffee. It seemed a little too good to be true, the notion that they could negotiate their way out of this war so soon. But he hoped it was true. He didnâ€™t want to be captain of a war ship. He wanted to be an explorer.

â€œHoshi and Tâ€™Pol left a couple of hours ago. When are you heading over?â€ asked Trip.

â€œAs soon as Iâ€™m done here, sirâ€ said Malcolm.

â€œWell, then,â€ said Trip, â€œDismissed.â€

Malcolm smiled as he got up.

â€œGood Luck, Malcolm,â€ said Trip.

Malcolm nodded, but he didnâ€™t say anything. Both men knew they would need more than luck, if these negotiations were to have any hope of coming to fruition.

****

The ProConsul sat down at his breakfast table alone. He had dispatched his letter to Balaâ€™s family and was waiting for a response. As soon as he got it, he would order his guard to arrest Ston. Then, he would wait for contact from Tâ€™Pol.

As he drank his Romulan tea, he felt a great resolve toward the negotiations and not just because he wanted his favorite son returned to him. Romulans were highly adept conquerors, but he sincerely doubted the current governmentâ€™s ability to prosecute a war against an alliance that included the Vulcans. Vulcans, were, after all, simply another kind of Romulan. Initially, he had believed they would be invading Earth, Tellar, Andoria and Vulcan individually. It wouldnâ€™t have been easy, but the Empire could have accomplished it.

But with the four planets united together, and possibly bringing other planets such as Alpha Centari, Denobula and even Beta Zed into their alliance, the conflict could be drawn out for years. He would propose holding off the full scale invasion until the intelligence forces could destabilize this potentially destructive alliance.

His suggestion made sense, but he knew Vulcans better than most Romulans. He only hoped he could convince his fellow members of the Great Council to respect their cousins.

The ProConsul heard a noise, and he looked up to see one of his Remans escort Ravel into his dining room.

â€œGood morning, sir,â€ she said formally, her hands behind her back.

â€œRavel, I may need the intelligence departmentâ€™s assistance in backing my claim that that alliance between our eastern border targets presents an unnecessary risk and should be destabilized before this war proceeds further. Do you believe your department can provide documentation of this?â€

Ravel thought for a moment. His request was highly unorthodox, but it had merit. Their cousins the Vulcans would no doubt be the most formidable enemy the Empire had ever faced, and if they were allied with other races, it would make them even more dangerous. It was also highly unusual for the Romulans to be goaded into conflict by another race, as the humans had done after the explosion at the mining colony.

â€œThe fall of the High Command did deal us an unnecessary blow,â€ said Ravel, â€œand many of our analysts believe that the war has begun - prematurely. As much as some of the generals and the senators refuse to believe so.â€

The ProConsul nodded.

â€œCan you put together a report? You may use the secure communications station in my upper office.â€

Ravel nodded. The ProConsul must be very serious, she thought. Although she had secret clearance, offering her use of his communication equipment was unusual.

The Reman will escort you up to the console and log you onto the system,â€ said The ProConsul, â€œIf you happen to notice Iâ€™m receiving a communication from my daughter summon me immediately.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Ravel.

*****

Ravel had been working at the terminal for several hours, when a message appeared on the screen that Tâ€™Pol was trying to communicate with her father. Ravel knew exactly the kind of device that she was using, as she used one similar to contact the ProConsul during her years as an operative on Vulcan. Without logging off, she quietly made her way down the steps toward the sitting room with the intention of summoning The ProConsul.

Years of intelligence training combined with a sensitive Romulan nose made Ravel stop in her tracks. She smelled copper blood. She also smelled the zinc blood of Remans. Something was very wrong.

As silently as she could, she moved toward the smell - which was emanating from the sitting room. Her heart beat quickly in her side, and she suppressed her developing fear. She stopped just short of the ornate lattice double doors that led to the sitting room. She peered through a crack the doorâ€™s design and saw an appalling scene.

The ProConsul was curled onto the floor, his fine robes stained with green blood. Above him stood Ston, a ceremonial Romulan knife in his hand. He looked as serious as she had ever seen the boy look. Behind him stood Bala, smiling.

â€œYou did perfectly, husband,â€ said Bala, â€œIâ€™m so proud of you.â€

The ProConsul, in clear agony, gurgled something and trembled.

â€œHeâ€™s bleeding everywhere,â€ said Ston, â€œThe carpet is ruined. And there are no more Remans to clean it. We should have kept some of them alive to clean up this mess.â€

â€œWeâ€™ll get more Remans,â€ said Bala, â€œNow that youâ€™re to be a ProConsul. Father says he can arrange that.â€

Ston knelt down next to his father.

â€œYou shouldnâ€™t have tried to have me arrested,â€ said Ston, â€œYou made me do this.â€

Bala kicked the ProConsul with her tiny foot. He grunted.

â€œYou underestimated him,â€ she said coldly to her father-in-law, â€œSomething I would never do.â€

Bala then reached over and kissed Ston on the cheek, and he smiled with pleasure.

Ravel saw green coming out of The ProConsuls mouth, and then he closed his eyes.

â€œWe need to leave,â€ said Bala, â€œFatherâ€™s men will be here soon to take the body and hang it in the square. We will have to open the gates for them since the Remans are dead.â€

Bala and Ston then dashed off toward the front door. After waiting a moment, Ravel quickly moved toward The ProConsul, who she feared was already dead. She pulled a needle from her military belt and pressed it into his neck. If there was any life left in him, the stimulant on the needle would revive him.

His eyes flew open, and for the first time in the many years she had known him, Ravel saw fear in his eyes.

â€œSton. . .heâ€™s . . .â€

â€œI know, sir,â€ she said, â€œHer family has chosen him. All the better to control the Great Council. Can I get you to a hospital?â€

He shook his head.

â€œI feel no pain,â€ he choked, â€œYou know what that means.â€

She nodded. Fatal wounds did not hurt. All soldiers knew that.

â€œGo connect to Tâ€™Pol. Tell Enme what has happened. You must find a way to fight them. They will destroy the Empire from within. You know that.â€

Ravel nodded. She also knew well what would happen to her and all those who were perceived as close to this once powerful man.

â€œIâ€™m sorry, Ravel, for what this means to you. . . I should have seen. . .â€

Ravel used a corner of his robe to wipe the blood from his mouth.

â€œQuiet, sir. Tell me what to tell Tâ€™Pol to tell Enme.â€

â€œHe needs to know that the Empire is now his enemy,â€ said The ProConsul, â€œas it is yours.â€

With that, his eyes closed, and Ravel knew there was no reviving him. She ran upstairs and into the communications room where she had been working. With one hand, she created a connection with Tâ€™Polâ€™s ring. With the other, she pulled up some messages that had arrived in the meantime. She read them quickly, and the contents were not surprising. The ProConsulâ€™s other two sons had disappeared.

Enme was the only hope for the family that had helped rule the Empire since its founding. _Him and the Vulcan woman_ , thought Ravel.

That very Vulcan woman appeared as a hologram. Ravel turned and looked at her.

â€œI wish to speak with the ProConsul, as he requested,â€ said Tâ€™Pol in Vulcan.

â€œThe ProConsul is dead. He was assassinated only moments ago,â€ replied Ravel in Vulcan.

The Vulcan woman did not appear to react. _Damned automaton_ , thought Ravel.

â€œI need to speak with Enme, is he there?â€ asked Ravel. Surely, the ProConsul would have demanded proof of life. Surely he would be in close proximity.

â€œPlease,â€ said Ravel, her voice cracking.

Tâ€™Pol stepped aside and her image disappeared. It was replaced by Enme, who did not speak Vulcan. In Romulan, Ravel quickly explained what she had seen. The green hue drained from Enmeâ€™s face, and his mouth dropped open.

â€œRavel, you need to get out of the house and off Romulus. As quickly as you can. Can you do that?â€

Tears filled Ravelâ€™s eyes, but she nodded. She was a trained intelligence agent and a military officer. If anyone could avoid the assassins that would come after her she could - at least for a time.

â€œWhere will I go? Theyâ€™ll eventually find me.â€

â€œMake your way to the no manâ€™s land between Romulan and Alliance space. Near the mining colony thereâ€™s a place called Hirku station - the place where Ston transferred the dilithium.â€

Ravel nodded. She knew of the place, but she had never been there.

â€œGet there. I will meet you there. . . just get there.â€

â€œYouâ€™re a prisoner,â€ she said.

â€œAll the armies of hell wonâ€™t stop me from getting there,â€ said Enme, and he reached a hand up. Ravel instinctively did the same, though she felt nothing as her hand passed through the hologram.

â€œWeâ€™ll be exiles,â€ said Ravel.

â€œJust go. . .now!â€

With that, Enme disappeared.

****

It had been nearly a half an hour since the communication between Enme and Ravel had been cut off. Although her brother had been silent the whole time, Tâ€™Pol knew that back end negotiations were now an impossibility. Enme stared out the window at the giant red storm of Jupiter.

â€œIt seems you and I are both orphans, sister,â€ said Enme, â€œbut I believe I am the greater orphan. For I have lost my people as well as my father this day.â€

Tâ€™Pol said nothing.

â€œSo. . .â€ continued Enme, â€œHow does one go about applying for political asylum for Earth? Do you happen to know?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow. This was unexpected.

â€œI thought you said you would never betray your people by choice.â€

Enme took a deep breath, and he turned and looked his sister dead in the eyes.

â€œMy people are now being ruled by my brother Ston and the family that helped him murder our father, probably our two brothers and anyone close to them from servant to officer to friend. According to my culture the only honorable thing for me to do is everything I can to topple that government. It seems my enemiesâ€™ enemies are now my friends. That includes you, Tâ€™Pol.â€

This was perhaps the first time he had ever called her by name. She nodded.

â€œI will convey your request to Admiral Archer. Are you sure you wish to ask Earth and not Vulcan for asylum?â€

Enme thought about that for a moment.

â€œNo offense, sister, but I think I prefer the company of humans. Much as you do.â€

****

Meanwhile, at the listening station in the next room, Hoshi had told Malcolm, Archer, Soval and the rest of the intelligence officers what had occurred. She roughly translated both the Romulan and Vulcan portions of the conversation.

â€œDamn,â€ said Archer, â€œI thought we had a chance of ending this war before it got out of control.â€

Malcolm shook his head, this was very bad news. On the other hand, they now had one hell of an intelligence asset in Enme. And if they could find this woman Ravel, no doubt she could be invaluable as well. If it was the same Ravel from his report on Tâ€™Pol and the Captainâ€™s kidnapping earlier in the year, this woman had spent several years spying on the Vulcans and could tell them much about Romulan intelligence operation.

â€œCould this be an elaborate deception?â€ asked Malcolm, â€œThe woman is a trained Romulan intelligence officer.â€

Soval leaned forward.

â€œItâ€™s possible,â€ said Soval, â€œbut Vulcan has several operatives on Romulus. They should be able to confirm this assassination and the resulting political upheaval within days.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œIf thatâ€™s the case, we need to find this woman Ravel. She could help us,â€ he replied.

Archer nodded.

â€œMalcolm, Iâ€™m leaning toward believing this story. If the Vâ€™Shar can confirm it, then Iâ€™ll want to send Enterprise to search for this woman. The fleet will follow you toward Romulan space, but weâ€™re slower. You and Tâ€™Pol will have be the ones gathering the intelligence from the prisoner - or rather defector - along the way - and continue to gather intelligence once youâ€™ve found this Ravel person.â€

Soval raised a hand.

â€œThe Vâ€™Shar can send a ship. Weâ€™ll allow Starfleet intelligence to join us. . .â€

â€œSoval,â€ said Archer, â€œEnme is Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother. And sheâ€™s suddenly the only family he has left. Romulans may be murderous bastards, but they do value family. The safest place for us to stash this guy is Enterprise. My gut tells me that under the circumstances, he wouldnâ€™t do anything to upset the only sane relative he has left. And it appears heâ€™s going help us lure in this Ravel - and convince her to defect to our side as well.â€

â€œNo offense, Admiral,â€ said Soval, â€œbut you humans are not equipped to deal with two members of the Romulan military. . .â€

Archer stood up. He spoke forcefully and confidently.

â€œIf either of our Romulan defectors get out of line, Iâ€™m sure Tâ€™Pol, Malcolm and his team can handle it. Iâ€™ve seen them deal with far worse.â€

****

That evening Tâ€™Pol dined alone with her captain in the private mess. She briefed him on the events of the day, and the orders that were impending for the ship. But Trip didnâ€™t give a damn about that. His wifeâ€™s father had very probably been murdered that day. He knew they had a rule about not getting personal in official areas, but this was hardly a normal situation. He stood up, walked around the table and knelt next to her. He locked eyes with her.

â€œHe was your father,â€ he said, â€œand heâ€™s probably dead. Iâ€™m sorry, baby.â€

Trip entwined his fingers in hers. As he expected, her emotions were twisted into a storm of regret, anger, sadness and confusion. The man whom she had known as a child had been dead to her for decades, the Romulan they had met months previous was a figure of anger and mystery. Yet, she was deeply saddened that he was gone.

â€œI should not care that he is dead. He was dead to me long ago,â€ she whispered.

â€œIt doesnâ€™t work that way,â€ he said, â€œYou loved him when you were a kid - or whatever you Vulcans call love - and he loved you.â€

Tâ€™Pol leaned over and rested her forehead against his. Unlike a Vulcan mate, he would never shame her for feeling such complex emotions. Nor had she ever sensed one ounce of concern over her Romulan parentage. She was never more grateful for having a human mate, even though it meant verbalizing her feelings.

â€œI am glad to have you here, Thyâ€™la,â€ she said.

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, until she spoke again.

â€œYour catfish is going to get cold,â€ she said in Vulcan monotone, â€œand Chef had it brought especially from Louisiana and kept in stasis for you.â€

Trip sighed and returned to his chair. Chef certainly knew how to keep his captains happy.

â€œAs soon as Ravelâ€™s story is confirmed by the Vâ€™Shar,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œThey will transfer my brother to this ship. Malcolm suggested we tell the crew he is Vâ€™osh Kâ€™atur, since he is obviously not a conventional Vulcan. Malcolm believes we should also give him more freedom in deference to his status as a defector, though we shall continue to monitor him carefully.â€

Trip took a bite of his catfish. He hated the idea of lying to his crew, but he understood the necessity. The general public could not know that Romulans and Vulcans were the same race. The Vâ€™osh Kâ€™atur story made sense.

â€œI suppose you could argue that all Romulans are simply Vâ€™osh Kâ€™atur,â€ said Tâ€™Pol simply.

Trip smiled. She always knew how to make him feel better.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG

  
Author's notes: Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This world is not mine.  


* * *

Enme had been returned to his familiar, cramped quarters on Enterprise. He paced in the small room, not quite knowing what to do with himself. His feet now recognized the familiar vibrations of the warp drive, and he knew that within the week they would arrive at Hirku station. In the meantime, just like everyone else on the ship, he had time on his hands.

He had spent the previous two days, before their departure, giving the humans all the military intelligence he could, including tactical information he was sure they hadnâ€™t gotten from him while he was drugged. The spymaster, Reed, had admitted that they only obtained information they had asked for, and Enme knew plenty of things that humans wouldnâ€™t have known to ask for.

Enme snickered. In the wake of his fatherâ€™s murder, he had no qualms about joining the humans against the empire. A major defeat for the new regime, led by Balaâ€™s father, would no doubt topple their government. Toppling that government was now his only purpose in life. At least officially, it was his only purpose.

Personally, Enme had another obsession. He wanted to find and rescue Ravel. She had been a loyal servant to their family since her graduation from the academy. In fact, it was Enme who had recommended her to his father. In doing her that honor, he had unknowingly sealed her fate. He had to rescue her.

Enme closed his eyes and thought of his father, now dead. He thought of his two brothers, now probably dead. He had barely had time to grieve these last few days. Now, he had a few hours to kill, he could at least honor his family with a makeshift grieving ritual.

Enme lit a candle, provided by one of the guards for his â€œVulcanâ€ meditation. He also retrieved a knife that he had swiped from the mess hall that day. Since his defection he was still guarded, but Captain Tucker had given him permission to eat in the mess hall, visit the gym and walk around the decks, provided he had a security escort.

Enme sat down in front of the candle and began to chant in Ancient Romulan. The words evoked memories of his motherâ€™s funeral, nearly two decades earlier. Then, there had been hundreds of mourners packed into a grand temple in the main square of Romulusâ€™s capital city. His father and brothers had been there, chanting as they burned her body. Now, he mourned his father and brothers alone in a tiny cabin on a human starship, light years away from the Father-World.

Enme reached a key part of the ritual. He took the knife and cut across his palm. He continued to chant as he wiped green blood across each cheek. He clasped his hands together to stop the bleeding and continued to chant for nearly an hour.

The chime on the door rang.

Enme opened his eyes.

â€œCome in,â€ he said.

Tâ€™Pol appeared in the doorway, carrying several parcels.

â€œAre you all right, Enme?â€ she asked as she entered and placed the parcels on the bunk.

She leaned down to examine his face, to see if he was wounded.

â€œYes, donâ€™t fear Iâ€™ve done anything rash. My desire for death was never very strong. I was just engaging in the Romulan chant of mourning. The ritual involves painting oneself with blood. I suppose you probably find that rather primitive.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œIt is primitive. Vulcans before the time of awaking engaged in such practices,â€ she said in her monotone.

Enme sighed.

â€œHow do Vulcans mourn the dead?â€

Tâ€™Pol went to the bathroom and retrieved a wet washcloth. She knelt beside her brother.

â€œWe have extensive rituals, as well as a funeral dirge,â€ she replied, â€œIs it appropriate to remove the blood from your face? Or are you required to wear the dried blood longer?â€

Enme took the washcloth and wiped his face.

â€œThankfully, it isnâ€™t required to stay. I hate the smell of my own blood,â€ he replied.

â€œI am sorry about your father and the rest of your family,â€ she said.

â€œThey were your family, too. Iâ€™m sorry you never knew my two full brothers. As annoyed I was with them most of the time, they had their qualities.â€

Tâ€™Pol remained silent.

â€œWould you like to tell me about them?â€ she asked.

â€œYes,â€ he said, â€œbut it seems you have come bearing gifts. May I ask what is in the parcels?â€

She nodded.

â€œThey are Vulcan-style clothes. I thought you would be tired of the jumpsuits weâ€™ve been giving you. And, since the majority of the crew believes you are a Vulcan assigned to assist us in intelligence gathering - it makes sense that you begin dressing like a Vulcan.â€

Enme raised his eyebrow.

â€œOur quartermaster made the clothes based on scans in the shipâ€™s database. Both Admiral Archer and Captain Tucker have told me that his work rarely needs adjustment. However, he said that if you need additional tailoring, heâ€™d be happy to accommodate you.â€

â€œWe shall see,â€ said Enme, as he examined some of the robes and other garments made by the quartermaster.

â€œI have a few hours before my shift begins,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œPerhaps we could have tea in the mess hall and you could tell me about your brothers - our brothers.â€

â€œI'd like that. Although, I confess, Iâ€™m still not accustomed to the new freedom Iâ€™ve been given,â€ said Enme.

He grabbed some of his new clothes and headed into the small bathroom. He shut the door as he changed, but he could hear her voice.

â€œBoth Lt. Commander Reed and Captain Tucker have stated that they are willing to remove your guard, if you prove yourself loyal. There would still be areas of the ship that would be off limits - including Engineering and The Bridge, but I thought you would want to know that.â€

Enme laughed.

â€œMy people would have thrown someone in my position out an airlock, intelligence value or not.

He emerged from the bathroom, in a black Vulcan-style suit with red trip on the collar and pockets.

â€œYou wear that well,â€ she said.

â€œShall we?â€ he said.

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œPerhaps we should stop in sickbay and Phlox can treat your hand.â€

â€œVery well,â€ said Enme.

*****

Later that night, Malcolm rang the chime on Hoshiâ€™s door. She answered it, wearing her civilian clothes and smiled at him. Malcolm could also some rather enticing Brazilian-Japanese food as he walked into the door, carrying a bottle of French wine he had obtained on the station.

â€œI canâ€™t believe Chef lets you use the galley,â€ said Malcolm, â€œI think you are the only one he allows that particular privilege.â€

Hoshi grinned.

â€œThatâ€™s surely true,â€ said Hoshi, â€œHe hated it when Admiral Archer used to go down there and likes it even worse when Captain Tucker is in there - says that the galley is like sickbay, one of the few places where the Captain is not in charge.â€

Malcolm put the bottle of wine on the small table that Hoshi had set for their date.

â€œDoes that have a real cork?â€ asked Hoshi, impressed. Only the oldest, best wineries used non-synthetic corks.

â€œIt does. Itâ€™s a 2151 Burgundy, supposedly a very good year.â€

She dug out an old-fashioned cork screw from a drawer. She handed it to Malcolm so he could open the bottle.

â€œWell, that was a very good year,â€ said Hoshi, â€œItâ€™s the year this ship launched. . .and the year we met.â€

Malcolm smiled. It seemed like a thousand years ago, not just over five. He remembered briefly how many had thought a tactical officer would be unnecessary on a ship of exploration. Now, Enterprise was a ship of war.

â€œTime passes quickly when youâ€™re out here,â€ sighed Malcolm.

They sat down and began to talk about their recent work.

â€œIâ€™ve listened to the exchange between Enme and Ravel several times,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™ll tell you something I didnâ€™t put in my report. I think heâ€™s in love with her.â€

Malcolm sipped on his wine. Heâ€™d read the text in translation. Their exchange had appeared passionate, but he knew better than to apply human cultural norms to Romulan words.

â€œAre you sure?â€

She nodded.

â€œItâ€™s all in the intonation. Half-way through the conversation, when he starts telling her to escape, the inflections change from professional to personal. And as near as I can figure, the inflections are very personal. My guess is that he was in love with her before this all started. Iâ€™m not sure they were involved. . .my guess is it was an unrequited thing.â€

Malcolm nodded. He thought briefly of his earlier jealously, which now seemed like a mere blip in his relationship with Hoshi. Between her therapy sessions and their spending the night together two or three times a week, he wasnâ€™t worried that Hoshi didn't love him. He knew that she did. And he loved her back. More so than he had ever loved anyone.

â€œThat means has a strong motive for wanting to save her. Stronger than family honor. I mean, I tend to believe that most humanoid species love. Itâ€™s just basic evolution. Even Vulcans love, just look at Tâ€™Pol. Vulcans donâ€™t admit to be capable of love - but they clearly are capable.â€

â€œRomulans definitely embrace the concept of passionate, romantic love,â€ said Hoshi, â€œbut itâ€™s a little dark. Their literature is filled with stories that make Romeo & Juliet look like they got a happy ending. One poem I read was about a woman who kills her lover to prevent him being forced to marry another. And heâ€™s grateful for it. Another was about a pair who murder his family in order to be together. And the reader is supposed side with them.â€

Malcolm laughed, though there was bitterness in it.

â€œAnd weâ€™re fighting a war against these people. And Iâ€™m sure itâ€™s going to be a long one. . .especially since the government has apparently been taken over by hardliners. Enme says that this new family is notoriously brutal even by Romulan standards.â€

Hoshi closed her eyes. Part of her wanted off the ship and back to Earth, though she understood the folly of such a sentiment. If all the best people didnâ€™t give everything they had to the war effort, Earth wouldnâ€™t be any more safe than the ship.

Malcolm seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. He pulled something from his pocket.

â€œI was going to save this for the dessert course,â€ he said, â€œbut what the hell?â€

He pushed the little box toward her. Her mouth dropped open. Malcolm had several times declared his serious intentions toward her, but this was unexpected.

â€œOpen it,â€ he said.

She did, and there was a platinum ring, with a red mars-stone in the center and surrounded by shimmering blue stones that Hoshi recognized as Andorian gems of some kind.

â€œRed really suits you,â€ he said â€œand so I got this. But if youâ€™d like something else. . .just let me know.â€

Malcolm sighed, longing for the days when engagement rings were always diamonds. Those days must have been much simpler. Now, engagement rings were whatever stone the bride liked.

â€œNo. . .no. Itâ€™s beautiful,â€ said Hoshi, slipping the ring on her hand.

â€œSo,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ll take that as a yes.â€

â€œDid I not say yes?â€ said Hoshi.

Malcolm shook his head. He took her hands in his across the table.

â€œBut then again, I didnâ€™t officially ask. Hoshi, I canâ€™t imagine my life without you. The two of us going from friends to lovers is the best thing thatâ€™s ever happened to me. If we must face this war, I want to face it together. So, will you be my bride?â€

Hoshi looked down at the ring.

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œI will.â€

The two of them grinned at each other, unsure what to do next. In the movies, couples always embraced passionately. But Malcolm was starving.

â€œGood,â€ he said, â€œItâ€™s settled, then."

He leaned over the small table and kissed her forehead. Then, he briefly kissed her on the lips before sitting back down.

â€œNow,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m going to eat before this gets cold.â€

Hoshi nodded. Then, she felt his leg under the table wrap around hers. And she too started in on her soup.

****

Tâ€™Pol arrived home to her quarters to find Trip in bed reading a PADD. She carried a plate with a slice of pecan pie and a cup of coffee. As Captain, protocol dictated that Trip keep his visits to the mess hall to a minimum and instead have the stewards bring him what he wanted in his private mess or in the Ready Room. However, the stewards hadnâ€™t yet mastered making coffee just the way he liked it, and worse, he had twice missed Chefâ€™s pecan pie because the stewards didnâ€™t know that it was the new Captainâ€™s favorite.

â€œIs that what I think it is?â€ said Trip.

â€œIt was the last piece,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI took the liberty of bringing it to you. Plus Dark Roast Coffee, Black. Without Caffeine, given the lateness of the hour.â€

She sat next to him. He took coffee and placed it on the nightstand. Then, he took the pie and had a bite.

â€œI thought you didnâ€™t like it when I ate food in bed,â€ he said.

â€œIâ€™m making an exception,â€ she said.

He put another piece on the fork and fed it to her.

â€œI just got a report from the joint chiefs,â€ said Trip, â€œSeems The Columbia got into a firefight with a couple of drones and took heavy damage. They made it to Hirku station and are getting patched up. In addition to searching for Ravel, weâ€™ve been asked to lend Captain Hernandez and her crew a hand.â€

â€œWere there any casualties?â€ asked Tâ€™Pol.

â€œNo fatalities. Twenty-two Wounded. Six critically,â€ said Trip, grimly.

Tâ€™Pol snuggled up against Trip, and she thought of the brutal massacre that had befallen her brotherâ€™s family - her family, though she did not know them as such. Romulans were not a merciful people.

â€œThey were fortunate,â€ she said, â€œIt could have been much worse.â€

â€œMalcolm says your brother has been very helpful, and that he thinks this Ravel will cooperate as well. I hope so. It seems we need all the help we can get.â€

â€œNevertheless,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œThe Columbia is in tact, and none of her crew is dead. The Romulans may be formidable enemies, but so are humans. And Vulcans. And Tellarites. And Andorians. Together, we will stop them.â€


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit made. This is all for fun.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit made. This is all for fun.

Rating: R to NC-17 depending on your sensibilities.  


* * *

Enterprise reached Hirku station, and Trip immediately saw The Columbia, which had been docked there for several days. The ship looked like hell, with huge black, twisted scars across her bow and one small part of the saucer section was missing all together.

â€œCaptain Tucker to Captain Hernandez,â€ said Trip, â€œCan we be of assistance?â€

Erika Hernandez appeared on the viewscreen. She looked tired but otherwise unharmed.

â€œYes,â€ she said, â€œOur doctor was killed. Weâ€™ve got medics treating the casualties, but Iâ€™d like to transport the five still-critical patients to Enterprise for treatment. We can use our shuttlepod.â€

â€œUnderstood. Ensign Sato, alert Phlox. Anything else?â€

After delivering some orders to her crew, Hernandez nodded.

â€œWeâ€™ve got a laundry list of repairs. Our warp drive is off line, and Kelby is one of the critical wounded with plasma burns on one third of his body. The repair teams from the station have been helping us, but they are hardly familiar with Starfleet warp technology.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œIâ€™ll have Hess put together a team and sent them over. If need be, Iâ€™ll come over myself.â€

Henandez smiled just a little, though there was still sadness in her eyes.

â€œOld habits dying hard, Captain?â€

Trip sighed, and he glanced over at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œMy first officer has standing orders to prevent me from doing my chief engineerâ€™s job.â€

â€œSpeaking of your job,â€ replied Hernandez, â€œMy tactical officer has prepared a report on our encounter with the drone ships. I understand you and your tactical officer have some expertise in this area. Weâ€™re going to put together some recommendations for the brass based on our experience. We appreciate you and Lt. Commander Reedâ€™s input.â€

â€œYou and your tactical officer can join Reed and myself for dinner tonight, here on Enterprise. Iâ€™ll wager you are sick of rations by now. Howâ€™s 1900 hours?â€

â€œWeâ€™ll be there. Hernandez out.â€

Trip sighed. He knew exactly what the crew of The Columbia were going through, and he didnâ€™t envy them. But he was glad to be there to lend assistance.

****

Enme spun around in his quarters. He was wearing traditional Vulcan robes.

â€œHow do I look, sister? Do you think I can pass for one of you?â€

â€œNot if you keep smiling that way,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol smoothly.

â€œAh, but Iâ€™m a Vulcan without logic,â€ said Enme, laughing bitterly at his own joke. As far as he was concerned - all Romulans were Vulcans without logic.

Tâ€™Pol looked at her brother. Since Malcolm had given them permission to visit Javon on the station, Enme had been in a good mood. It was the first real sign that he was starting to earn the trust of his new allies. Malcolm also felt that if Enme tried to escape, it would be a good gauge as to whether they could trust all the intelligence he had given them.

â€œIt will also be highly suspicious that you donâ€™t speak Vulcan,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œthough I believe your English is coming along nicely.â€

â€œThe Terran language has been easy to pick up,â€ said Enme, â€œnot nearly so with Vulcan. But Hoshi says that Starfleet intelligence is working on a mini-universal translator that I could implant in my ear. It might solve my little Vulcan language problem.â€

Tâ€™Pol straightened her brotherâ€™s robes. She was dressed in similar civilian clothes, all the better to blend into the Vulcan section of the station. They had arranged a meeting with Javon to learn if there was any word of Ravel reaching the station.

â€œUntil you have that UT embedded,â€ she said, â€œI suggest you keep contact with any Vulcans besides Javon and myself to a minimum.â€

Enme nodded.

â€œIronic,â€ he said, â€œI was offered a slot in intelligence training. I turned it down, believing I wouldnâ€™t have the knack for it. Who knew? Ravel speaks Vulcan fluently, as you know. Sheâ€™s been a cracking good agent - I think sheâ€™ll have a far easier time adjusting that I will. Father told me that she actually liked living on Vulcan. She thought it was an adventure.â€

Tâ€™Pol sighed. There had been no word of Ravel at the station.

â€œWhen do we head off to the station?â€

â€œAnytime you are ready, Tirak.â€

â€œI donâ€™t know how Iâ€™ll get used to that,â€ he said, â€œat least Ravelâ€™s name works in both languages. I wish mine did.â€

Tâ€™Polâ€™s hands were behind her back, her face emotionless.

â€œMy husband sometimes jokes I should adopt the name Polly while we are on Earth. I have objected to the notion even in jest.â€

Enme searched his sisterâ€™s face for any sign of irony. He saw none but was unconvinced it wasnâ€™t there somewhere behind her eyes.

â€œIs that your way of saying you sympathize with my identity being ripped from me?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, and she gestured toward the door.

â€œShall we, brother?â€

â€œAre you going to make me hold with the vegetarian thing?â€

â€œYou are Vosh Kaâ€™tur. They are not always vegetarians.â€

â€œThank the gods for small favors.â€

****

When Tâ€™Pol and Enme arrived at the airlock, Tâ€™Pol was surprised to find her captain there waiting for her. She knew immediately that she wasnâ€™t going to like whatever he told her. She sensed it.

â€œIs there something you need, Captain?â€

Enme raised an eyebrow at his brother-in-law, but he said nothing.

â€œI need a word in private, Commander.â€

â€œDonâ€™t mind me,â€ said Enme, â€œIâ€™ll just wait for you here. No worries that Iâ€™ll dash off. Iâ€™m an exile not a prisoner.â€

Trip resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother. The guy had a sense of humor, but that didnâ€™t mean Trip trusted him or had forgotten how dangerous he was.

Tâ€™Pol followed Trip into a nearby alcove. He reached up and almost put his hands on her shoulders, but he stopped short. Nevertheless, she felt his great concern for her through the bond.

â€œHeâ€™s no danger to me,â€ she said, â€œnot now.â€

â€œThat doesnâ€™t mean itâ€™s safe on that station. The last time you were there you and Hoshi got snatched. I know youâ€™ve added a jammer to your communicator that would prevent unauthorized transport - but who knows what else could happen? You need take Malcolm with you as a precaution. Iâ€™ve seen reports of a few - incidents - on the station since the alliance took over. Itâ€™s not that I donâ€™t trust your skills. I just think itâ€™s better policy that you have backup.â€

Tâ€™Pol inhaled.

â€œMy brother has reason to dislike Lt. Commander Reed.â€

â€œThatâ€™s why Iâ€™m sending him, specifically.â€

â€œSo this is an order?â€

Trip nodded, and he dropped his hands at his side. He sensed that she was not pleased. She clearly believed Malcolm would draw unnecessary attention, and she didnâ€™t believe for one minute that there wasnâ€™t something personal behind his orders. But Trip was the captain, and she was going to have to accept his decision.

â€œIâ€™ve already called Malcolm. He should be here momentarily. And remember. I want you and Malcolm back by this evening to be in on the dinner with Captain Hernandez.â€

â€œYes, sir.â€

Trip resisted the urge to say something personal, instead he nodded and headed down the hallway. Tâ€™Pol returned to her brother.

â€œSo, you used to outrank him. Now he outranks you. How does that work?â€ asked her brother.

â€œVery well. . . most of the time.â€

â€œWell, I hope you donâ€™t let him order you around when you are alone,â€ said Enme.

â€œNot unless Iâ€™m in the mood,â€ she replied coldly.

Enme laughed out loud. He had come to adore the little bubbles of emotion that surfaced in his sister. Vulcans and Romulans were perhaps more alike than he first thought.

****

About an hour later, Tâ€™Pol, Malcolm and Enme sat at a table in the Vulcan section of Hirku station. Javon, the Vâ€™Shar operative stationed there, sat with them and seemed almost amused at the entire situation. The human was dressed as a civilian trader, and the two siblings wore traditional Vulcan robes. Tâ€™Pol wore them well, naturally. The Romulan carried himself as though he was on his way to a costume ball.

â€œLetâ€™s see. I have a Vulcan, albeit one married to a human. I have a human. And I have a Romulan, who is doing a terrible job of pretending to be Vulcan,â€ said Javon, â€œIf there are any Romulan agents among us, Iâ€™m sure weâ€™ve revealed ourselves already.â€

Enme glared at the man. Tâ€™Pol saw Enmeâ€™s hand move for a disruptor that wasnâ€™t at his hip.

â€œHave you heard of a Romulan female on her way here? Sheâ€™s very good at pretending to be a Vulcan - have you heard of a Vulcan. . â€œ

Enmeâ€™s voice drifted off as Tâ€™Pol glared at him. The emotion in Enmeâ€™s voice was very revealing. Not just of his of his true ethnicity, but also of his feelings for Ravel. Malcolm glanced quickly at Tâ€™Pol, sympathizing. Having an amateur along on any kind of intelligence mission was a trial. Having that amateur be a relative was undoubtedly worse.

â€œThereâ€™s been no such reports,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut that could only mean Ravel is adept at keeping cover.â€

Enme sighed.

â€œSo,â€ said Javon, â€œI have heard of all the recent goings-on on Romulus. Itâ€™s quite unfortunate all around. It now looks like its going to be a long war.â€

â€œIâ€™m going to do my best to help shorten it,â€ said Enme.

Javon raised his eyebrow.

â€œWeâ€™ll have to see that you get the opportunity,â€ said Javon, â€œas that would be agreeable for both sides.â€

Javon glanced over at Tâ€™Pol and the human. Whatever the differences between this quadrantâ€™s species, their common enemy had united them.

****

Tâ€™Pol returned to her quarters late that afternoon, well in time to shower and change into a uniform for the dinner with Captain Hernandez. Javon hadnâ€™t been forthcoming with very much information about the situation on the station - he had read Enme easily, however.

Tâ€™Pol made a note to school her brother in the basics of intelligence operations. Rule number one: donâ€™t reveal anything you donâ€™t need to reveal, even if to your allies.

She immediately noticed the room was filled with steam, and the shower was in use. Trip was obviously preparing for the dinner as well. As she sat down on a chair and began to remove her shoes, she situated herself with a view of his form in shower.

As much as as she admired the view, she remained irritated that he had sent Malcolm to the station with her. Malcolmâ€™s presence hadnâ€™t been overly obtrusive, but she remained doubtful Trip would have sent him with anyone else.

She closed her eyes, and she began to slowly suppress the negativity she felt. Trip was her captain, and she was required to respect his wishes. However, she had found it much easier to follow Archerâ€™s disagreeable orders.

She heard the water turn off, but she kept her eyes closed. She heard him stirring around their quarters for a few minutes - then sensed him near her. She opened her eyes and saw him kneeling next to her in his bathrobe.

â€œHowâ€™d it go on the station?â€ he asked.

â€œI shall prepare a full report later this evening. . . but the mission concluded without incident.â€

_Still mad about Malcolm?_

She knew better than to deny it. He now knew very well she was capable of feeling emotions.

_I would not have allowed my brother to compromise our goals._

â€œI know you wouldnâ€™t have done it on purpose. But one of my goals is to make sure that Starfleet remains absolutely confident in your loyalty. If he had escaped on your watch - that might have cast you in a bad light. Who knows what those paper pushers at the head office would do if they decided they couldnâ€™t trust you? I'm not going to risk losing my first officer, even if it means having her pissed off at me.â€

She met his eyes, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of his freshly showered body. His thought process was logical, and her anger started to dissipate. She glanced at the chronometer and saw that they still had nearly an hour before Captain Hernandez was to arrive.

She stood up. Trip stood up next to her. He kissed her ear as he ran his fingers over the outline of her breasts, which were still encased in the traditional Vulcan silk of her robes. He could still smell the Vulcan spices and perfumes that had clung to her while on the station, and they mixed enticingly with the copper of her skin and hair.

â€œYou know,â€ he said, â€œyou look really hot in your Vulcan outfit.â€

She raised her eyebrow at him. He covered her mouth with his, hoping to kiss away the last wisps of anger he sensed in her mind.

_Canâ€™t afford to lose you, darlin. If I had another XO, I wouldnâ€™t be able to do this when they disagree with my orders._

Tâ€™Pol kissed him for awhile, then she stepped back and turned around. She lifted up her hair to reveal the hook at the top of her robe. Trip undid it, then slid his fingers down her back to the tie that was at her waist. He undid that as well. He then lifted his hands back up to her shoulders and pushed the robe off her shoulder. The garment fluttered to the floor, pooling at her feet. Trip kissed the back of her neck and pulled her against him.

â€œIâ€™ve been meaning to ask you. Do all Vulcans go without underwear beneath their robes?â€

She felt his erection pressed against her backside, and she found herself amused that her lack of underwear aroused him so much, especially since she knew that she owned underwear that had an equally arousing affect on him. It was contradictory. 

â€œTraditionally the robes are worn without undergarments. But logic dictates that that tradition should not always be followed.â€

He nipped at her neck and cupped her breasts with his hands. He teased her nipples into taut little buds.

â€œWell, in this case Iâ€™m going to side with tradition. Logic be damned.â€

Tâ€™Pol turned around in is arms. She undid the tie on his robe, and it soon joined hers on the floor.

â€œWe have only a short time, husband. I suggest we make the most of it.â€

She kissed him passionately, opening her mouth to his. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed her toward their bed. She fell backwards, taking him with her.

She opened her legs to him, and he rubbed his erection against her without entering her. He teased her that way until he sensed she had enough. He slipped inside her, and soon all the stresses of the day had washed away and were replaced by the depth of their feelings for one another. In their linked minds, she saw him visit the wounded in sickbay and felt his fear, knowing it could have easily been his own crew so terribly harmed. He understood her mistrust of Javon; her fear that her brother would compromise them all - on purpose or by accident. Their minds soothed each other. The bond energy swirled around them brought them to mutual euphoria.

Afterwards, Trip held her close.

â€œGod, Tâ€™Pol, I love you,â€ he said, â€œI couldnâ€™t live if something happened to you. . . â€œ

She brushed a stray blond hair from his face, sadly thinking of the truth of his words. She felt a pang of guilt for embroiling him in a telepathic bond that could be fatal to one party if the other died.

â€œItâ€™s okay,â€ he whispered in her ear, â€œItâ€™s okay. But I just have to protect you.â€

Deep inside her mind, she blocked and suppressed a worry. She feared it wasnâ€™t proper for a captain to be so concerned for one member of his crew. Nor was it wise for a first officer to be similarly obsessed with her captain. She hoped fervently that this would not cause harm to them or the ship.


	27. Chapter 27

The tactical briefing over The Columbiaâ€™s encounter with the drone ship took two hours over dinner. As dessert finished, Malcolm, The Columbiaâ€™s tactical officer and Tâ€™Pol all excused themselves, and Captain Tucker and Captain Hernandez found themselves alone at the table. Trip ordered the steward to bring him a bottle of Irish Whiskey that Bert had given him before heâ€™d left Ireland.

He poured two glasses, though they were not nearly as generous as the oneâ€™s Archer would have poured.

â€œI thought Archer was the whiskey man.â€

Trip smiled.

â€œHeâ€™s a bourbon man. This is totally different," he drawled, turning on his best southern charm for Hernandez.

Erika laughed, but then the two captainâ€™s locked eyes. Both of them were thinking the same thing. Jonathan Archer had been getting too friendly with the bottle, and they both knew it.

â€œHave you heard from the Admiral lately?â€ asked Trip.

â€œYes. He inquired as to the welfare of the ship, and whether or not we needed to return to Jupiter station. I told him I didnâ€™t know yet. But youâ€™ve seen him in a more. . .casual setting than I have more recently . . .â€

Trip looked down at his whiskey, thinking of the blood wine at the 602 Club.

â€œHeâ€™s going to be a great admiral.â€

There was a pause, and Erika glanced around to see if no stray crewmen were in the room.

â€œProvided he doesnâ€™t crawl into the bottom of a bottle a drown himself,â€ she sighed.

Trip looked at Erika.

â€œAre you speaking as an officer who answers to him. . .or a friend?â€

â€œOff the record. And as someone who cares about Jonathan as much as you do. Maybe more.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œNeither of us is in a position to say anything or do anything . . .unless it gets bad.â€

She nodded as well.

â€œTrip. . .May I call you that? Iâ€™d like to think it wonâ€™t get all the way to bad - but these times have been tough on all of us.â€

â€œYou can call me Trip, Erika. Itâ€™s nice to have someone around who does. My wife wonâ€™t even call me that unless we are alone in our quarters.â€

Erika sipped on her whiskey.

â€œMust be nice to have your wife onboard. It must make it a little less lonely at the top.â€

â€œIt hasnâ€™t been smooth sailing always, but Iâ€™m glad sheâ€™s here. Her being a Vulcan makes it a little easier to separate our work and personal lives. Even before I outranked her, she was all business while on duty.â€

If Erika heard any doubt in Tripâ€™s voice, she didnâ€™t appear to notice. Instead, she raised a glass.

â€œTo Admiral Jonathan Archer. May he stay the course, never wavering into rough waters.â€

â€œIâ€™ll drink to that,â€ said Trip.

The irony of them toasting their friend with hard liquor was not lost on either of them.

****

Tâ€™Pol decided she needed some mint tea before heading back to her quarters for meditation. The mess hall was mostly empty, only a pair of crewman in the corner and Hoshi sitting alone in the corner studying a PADD.

After Tâ€™Pol got her tea, Hoshi beckoned her to her table.

â€œCommander,â€ she said, â€œI think Iâ€™m going to be able to apply the information your brother gave me and figure out the Romulan subspace frequencies. I wonâ€™t be able to decode them myself, but Iâ€m going to forward the messages we intercept to all the alliance joint chiefs - hopefully someone will have a codebreaker that will be able to crack their encryptions.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. Her brother, not being a communicationâ€™s officer, was not able to give Hoshi the exact subspace frequencies used by the Romulans either for military or civilian purposes. However, the communicator he had been captured with plus Enmeâ€™s recent explanation as to how the communicator functioned had helped her figure out which frequencies it used.

â€œThe Vâ€™Shar has had some previous success in breaking Romulan codes,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut not currently. At least, as far as Iâ€™ve been told.â€

Hoshi shook her head.

â€œThereâ€™s a Navaho community on Mars,â€ said Hoshi, â€œTheir language has been used as a human code for centuries. Thereâ€™s a few linguists among them that are great code breakers. Iâ€™m sure Starfleet will send the Romulan transmission to them,â€ said Hoshi in a low voice.

Tâ€™Pol glanced over at the junior crewmen in the corner. It was unlikely they could hear the conversation, but she appreciated Hoshiâ€™s caution. The incident with Terra Prime had taught her that the loyalty of the entire crew was not a given. She also knew that Reed had initiated a regular protocol that swept the entire ship for listening devices. Thus far, none had been discovered.

Tâ€™Pol also glanced at the bejeweled ring on Hoshiâ€™s finger. She knew what it signified, but she said nothing. Clearly, the relationship between Sato and Reed had progressed to a high degree of seriousness. She did not object to this turn of events because she of all people knew that the more serious and settled their relationship, the less likely it was to cause disruption.

â€œHas there been any word on Ravel?â€ asked Hoshi, who had security clearance but was not kept in the regular loop about intelligence matters.

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œIâ€™ll take that as a no,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIf it were yes, you wouldnâ€™t have reacted at all.â€

Tâ€™Pol did not say a word, and Hoshi smiled.

â€œI didnâ€™t mean to upset you,â€ she said, â€œand I can only read you on certain yes or no questions. But you Vulcans are way more revealing that youâ€™d like to think."

â€œIâ€™m not upset. But I am impressed at your observational skills. You should consider transferring to intelligence officially,â€ said Tâ€™Pol smoothly.

â€œNo,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™m happy to just lend the spooks a hand. Iâ€™m way too transparent to be a spy.â€

****

Tâ€™Pol returned to her quarters, showered and dressed in her silken pajamas. Trip had not yet returned, and she suspected he would not for awhile. The two NX captains undoubtedly had much to discuss.

She sat down at her low table and began her meditation. She soon found herself in her white space, and she felt serenity all around her. Some time later, she sensed Trip had returned to their quarters and was preparing for bed. She guessed it was quite late, and at least an hour had passed since she began her meditation. She gradually brought herself back to the reality of her world and opened her eyes. She blew out the candle and made her way into the larger, adjacent room, where their bed and the shower was. Trip was in bed, reading a PADD.

â€œIt is agreeable you have returned,â€ she said.

â€œNice to see you too,â€ he said.

She crawled up on the bed next to him, and he kissed her on the cheek.

â€œYou appear tired,â€ she said, â€œyou should rest.â€

â€œI am tired,â€ he sighed, â€œand Iâ€™ll rest. Right after I spend some time with my beautiful wife.â€

He placed the PADD on the table by the bed.

â€œWhat were you reading?â€

He sighed.

â€œThe report about the drones . . .Iâ€™m pretty sure we can modify our warp engines to make it harder for the drones to target them. Thereâ€™s a lag time between them getting new orders - and I think we can exploit that lag and a glitch in their AI to prevent a drone from ever successfully targeting one of our warp engines. I donâ€™t think smaller engines would be able to do it, I am going to suggest the changes to Hernandez.. . .but enough work.â€

Trip leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She kissed back, then she snuggled up against him, enjoying the close physical contact.

â€œI believe Lt. Commander Reed has proposed marriage to Lt. Sato,â€ said Tâ€™Pol casually.

Trip looked down at her.

â€œAre you gossiping about my bridge officers?â€

â€œVulcans donâ€™t gossip. Iâ€™m simply informing you of a turn of events that will affect how you relate to your officers. They are also both your friends, and I believed you would be happy for them.â€

Trip reached up and absently caressed her ear.

â€œI am happy for them. I always thought he had a crush on her. On the other hand, he nursed crushes on half the women on this ship - including you darlinâ€™.â€

Tâ€™Pol ignored the last part of his statement.

â€œYou donâ€™t foresee their closeness causing difficulties?â€

Trip thought about this for a moment.

â€œShe doesnâ€™t answer to him. She answers to you. As does he. Itâ€™s less awkward than our arrangement, with you directly answering to me.â€

â€œYes,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut I am Vulcan and more adept at keeping my - feelings for you - from interfering with day to day operations. A human couple might not have the same discipline.â€

Trip leaned down at kissed her again.

â€œThanks for keeping me disciplined, by the way.â€

She raised her eyebrow.

â€œNot in that way. . .well, not specifically.â€

She was silent for a moment, then she sensed that he was done discussing work.

â€œPerhaps it is time for you to show me just how disciplined you can be, human,â€ she said firmly, her voice very serious.

Tâ€™Pol stood up and folded her arms. Trip grinned. Mistress Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t come out to play very often, but he very much enjoyed it when she did. He suppressed the grin and lowered his eyes.

â€œYes, Mistress.â€

So much for getting a full eight hours of sleep, thought Trip.

One hour and twenty minutes later.

â€œThe game is over,â€ declared Tâ€™Pol, â€œYou may call me by my given name and are no longer required to follow my orders.â€

Trip sighed deeply and then laughed. They were sprawled on the floor, his head in her lap. They were both naked. He was sporting a small bite mark on his shoulder, to which Tâ€™Pol was applying pressure.

â€œThanks, baby. Do you think I need to see Phlox for that?â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œIt will not leave a scar. But I am unsure as to why you purposely fail at my simple instructions, knowing the game requires me to exact punishment.â€

Trip laughed again.

â€œThatâ€™s the point, darlin. Wouldnâ€™t be much fun if you didnâ€™t get to exact some of that punishment.â€

â€œI thought the game was to test your ability to follow exact orders - successfully.â€

He hugged her close and kissed her on the cheek.

â€œCâ€™mon,â€ he said, â€œYou had to have sensed how much fun it was - to fail - I know you did.â€

â€œI sensed it,â€ she said defensively, â€œI just found your pleasure at failure - confusing.â€

â€œNext time we play, weâ€™ll reverse roles - I promise to come up with a task that you will fail to complete and a punishment youâ€™ll enjoy.â€

She gave him a skeptical look, but she nodded. She remembered something he had said just after their first encounter during the Expanse, when she had thanked him for showing her how human sexuality functioned. He had laughed at her.

_Honey, weâ€™ve barely scratched the surface. Iâ€™ll wager it would take your whole, long Vulcan lifetime to experience all the nuances of human sexuality._

She hadnâ€™t thought it was possible then, that she would be able to spend her lifetime letting him show her all those nuances.

â€œI look forward to your instruction, husband,â€ she whispered, slipping her hand into his.

â€œGood,â€ he said casually, â€œbut that will have to be another time. Right now, I really need to get some sleep.â€

****

The next morning Trip met with Malcolm and Hess to discuss the upgrades to the engine defenses. Tâ€™Pol had breakfast in the mess hall, joined by her brother. He wore his Vulcan garb and rarely smiled as he drank orange juice and ate waffles.

â€œYour crew is terribly friendly,â€ said Enme, â€œThey all want to know my background and whether or not I like it aboard the ship. Your doctor has asked to examine me - he knows the truth of course - but he is very curious as to why we Romulans donâ€™t have the telepathic abilities that our cousins do. At least, we donâ€™t think we do.â€

Tâ€™Pol picked at her fruit salad.

â€œDoes Phlox believe Romulans might have latent abilities?â€

Enme nodded.

â€œYou see, five thousand years isnâ€™t long enough for us to have lost the genetic ability - or so he thinks. Itâ€™s just the sensitivity to it that weâ€™ve lost, or so your doctor believes. He has asked to experiment on me - see if I might trigger some ability.â€

Tâ€™Pol considered this.

â€œI thought it might make my cover as a Vulcan more believable,â€ said Enme, â€œBesides. Phlox is right. Our father had a strong telepathic connection with your mother. He told me about it once, after my mother died. He kindly informed me that he didnâ€™t grieve for my mother because the true love of his life lived - albeit far away.â€

Tâ€™Pol suppressed the surprise and shock. She knew that Vulcans could bond with a non-telepathic species. However, she wasnâ€™t ready to share that very personal information with her brother. But she also knew that Enmeâ€™s news did not necessarily mean that Romulans were latent telepaths.

Nevertheless, the implications of his news disturbed her. She suspected that Tâ€™Les and her father had bonded on some level, but she hadnâ€™t thought clearly about what that had meant. Did it mean her mother knew his secret? Did she know he was alive? Had she continued the charade to spare Tâ€™Pol the shame of the truth? Now that both her parents were dead, it was unlikely that she would ever find out the truth. Tâ€™Pol did find herself hoping that her father was a skilled enough telepath that he had hidden the truth from her mother, as unlikely as that seemed.

â€œHe loved my mother?â€ she asked, sounding merely inquisitive.

â€œI believe he did,â€ said Enme, â€œHe wasnâ€™t one to lie about things like that. And he always spoke very fondly of his time on Vulcan - I always got the feeling that he would have rather stayed there. . . â€œ

Enmeâ€™s voice trailed off. Tâ€™Pol heard pain in his voice. She realized that she found the notion that her parents had been in love disagreeable. Enme clearly found that notion that his parents werenâ€™t in love disagreeable.

â€œHe loved you deeply,â€ she said, â€œWhen I spoke to him over the subspace transmitter, he clearly desired your return - whatever Romulan codes of honor say about the matter.â€

Enme sighed and sipped on a cup of coffee.

â€œThank you for telling me that,â€ he said, â€œIt. . .it is good to know.â€


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own. Just for Fun.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: Don’t own. Just for Fun.

Rating: Rish in this chapter.

A/N: Plot moves forth.  


* * *

It wasnâ€™t yet 0600 and Tâ€™Pol quietly preparing for the day. She at risen at 0500, showered and changed into her uniform. Following that, she had spent fifteen minutes meditating. She opened her eyes, feeling refreshed, rested and well-prepared to meet the dayâ€™s challenges.

Both her and Trip needed to be on duty by 0700, and it was to be a long day of assisting The Columbiaâ€™s crew, intelligence gathering and monitoring reports of Romulan movements in the sector. Given the long distances between systems, deep space warfare often moved at a glacial pace. Aside from the initial opening battle, the conflict had manifested in small skirmishes with drones and reconnaissance warbirds. Unless the Romulans decided to mount some sort of preemptive offensive, it could be months before another major battle occurred.

Trip was also awake, and she could hear him showering in the next room. She got up and moved gracefully toward the sound.

â€œGood morning,â€ she said.

Trip, fresh from the shower, was standing in front of the closet. He turned around.

â€œHave you seen my boots?â€

â€œThey're beneath the bed. You often leave them there just as you did in our old quarters,â€ she said.

He approached her and kissed her on the lips. He sighed.

â€œI promised myself I would make use of this bigger closet, but I still stick to my old habits.â€

â€œThese quarters are far more agreeable,â€ she replied, â€œThey are larger and the space is more logically organized.â€

Trip smiled at her. Before moving in with Tâ€™Pol, he thought Vulcans intractable creatures of habit. Vulcans may have seemed like creatures of habit, but when presented with a more logical option Tâ€™Pol had no problem adjusting to new circumstances. Humans, on the other hand, stuck with their routines in ways that defied logic.

He kissed her again, this time harder and more aggressively, forcing her to open her mouth to his. He let the towel drop and pulled her close.

â€œWe need to be on the bridge in an hour,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, looking first at the chronometer and then back it him.

â€œWe can make it. Consider this a test of our efficiency.â€

He continued to kiss her, and his hands found the zipper of her uniform. She did not protest when he undid it.

â€œI thought human males took pride in their ability to extend the duration of sexual relations,â€ she said in between kisses.

Trip pulled back and grinned at her.

â€œNot always. Sometimes itâ€™s fun to work on a deadline.â€

Trip glanced over at the chronometer, which read 0607.

â€œWeâ€™ll give ourselves twenty-three minutes. Thatâ€™ll leave twenty more to get rearranged and ten minutes to get to the bridge. We should be there will time to spare.â€

She nodded.

â€œEnough talk,â€ she said, helping him divest her of her uniform.

They fell together on the bed, and soon Trip used all his engineerâ€™s skill at time management and his familiarity with the mechanics of her body to make certain she appreciated his efficiency. She came with a cry, trembling as he thrust deeply into her. Soon, he came as well and collapsed on top of her. As soon as he was capable of coherent thought, he checked the time.

â€œOkay,â€ he said, â€œWeâ€™re ahead of schedule. Itâ€™s 0627.â€

â€œExcellent,â€ she whispered back, her eyes still closed.

Gradually and in synch with one another, their breathing returned to normal. By 0630, they leapt up and began cleaning up and dressing. By 0650, they were out the door and all business.

As Trip disappeared into his ready room at 0667, he turned to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œHave a good day, Commander.â€

â€œYou too, Captain.â€

Hoshi, who was at the comm, was testing a new message encryption system. She sent a message to Malcolm, who was working in the armory.

_They totally did it before work this morning. They were just a little too casual with each other when they arrived._

_Theyâ€™re married, love, of course they do it in the morning before work. At least a few times a week._

_In that case, can I ask you to write that into our vows? Specifically?_

_It would be my pleasure._

*****

Several hours later, Tâ€™Pol received word that an encrypted message had arrived for her from somewhere on the space station. She thought it best to access the message from the armory, and she made her way there and situated herself at a workstation. She brought up the message. Javon had a report of Ravelâ€™s possible location.

Tâ€™Pol responded that she would return to the station shortly.

â€œLt. Commander Reed,â€ she said, â€œJavon claims to have information regarding Ravelâ€™s location. However, as near as I can determine, she is not yet on the station. Javon wishes to discuss that matter in person. I think it would be best if you accompanied me to the station to meet with him.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œWill you want to bring Tirak with us?â€

Tâ€™Pol shook her head.

â€œHe is highly emotional when it comes to the subject of Ravel. I believe he will not maintain his cover if he joins us. From the context of the message, I do not believe Ravelâ€™s circumstances are positive.â€

Malcolm began to gather some gear for the excursion. They had learned the hard way to bring transporter jammers, tracking beacons and extra communicators when they went to the station.

â€œWhat do you mean? Did he give you a hint?â€

â€œVulcans donâ€™t hint. However, the absence of confirmation of her well-being indicates the lack thereof.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œI think it should just be you and me, not a security team. Thereâ€™s been some incidents on the station lately with civilians attacking military personnel. We should wear civilian attire again, and try to blend in.â€

â€œShall we depart at 1300 hours?â€

â€œYes, maâ€™am.â€

â€œI shall alert the Captain of our plan. If he has no objection, we shall leave at 1300 hours.â€

With that, Tâ€™Pol turned on her heels and left.

****

At 12:15, Hoshi and Malcolm met in the commissary for lunch. They found a table for two in the corner and situated themselves close to one another as they ate. They had made no secret of their relationship, but they hadnâ€™t yet made an official announcement.

â€œHow long to you think youâ€™ll be over there?â€ asked Hoshi.

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œItâ€™s difficult to say. I donâ€™t suspect very long. Javon doesâ€™t trust our encryptions so heâ€™s not wanting to send anything that could be useful - to anyone - over the comm system.â€

Hoshi rolled her eyes.

â€œOur encryptions would challenge the Vulcansâ€™ encryptions any day of the week. All you need to do to crack a Vulcan code is search for the most logical patterns overlayed on other logical patters. Itâ€™s tough stuff, but itâ€™s not impossible. I prefer my codes with a dash of chaos here and there.â€

â€œThat makes sense, by the way, Javon is the most chaotic Vulcan Iâ€™ve ever seen. . .anyway, I downloaded a marriage license last night. I filled it out, but it needs your digital signature before we can send it to Starfleet.â€

â€œBut it will only be good for six weeks. . .you want to get married in the next six weeks?â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œI know your parents will want to have a big celebration when we get back to Earth. But I donâ€™t think thereâ€™s time to wait. Whatever happens in the next few months and years with this war. . .I want you to be my wife.â€

Hoshi took a sip of water, and her hand trembled a bit. They both knew why people tended to get married more often in a time of war.

â€œOkay,â€ she said, â€œI canâ€™t wait to see the look on the Captainâ€™s face. Iâ€™m pretty sure heâ€™s never performed a wedding ceremony.â€

â€œMaybe we could ask him to do a tea ceremony?â€

Hoshi laughed.

â€œNo. . .no. Too easy. Thereâ€™s a tribe of humanoids on Alpha Centari that has a four hour ceremony that culminates in the officiant burning tattoos into the bride and groom with an hot iron. We should ask for that. Or maybe an Xindi Aquatic ceremony - all underwater and in Aquatic. But its only about twenty minutes. Weâ€™d have to wear scuba gear, of course.â€

Malcolm laughed.

â€œIâ€™ll ask him for the standard British civil ceremony. I think he can handle it,â€ said Malcolm, â€œUnless you would rather have a Japanese one.â€

â€œNo. The simpler the better, but you know,â€ said Hoshi, â€œStarfleet should really develop its own ceremony. With all the ships away from Earth for months at a time, more and more people are going to pair off. Maybe Iâ€™ll take a look at the text of the British one and see if I can make it more generic terran, so to speak.â€

Malcolm smiled.

â€œYou do that love,â€ he said, â€œIn the meantime, Tâ€™Pol and I must be off to the station.â€

***

Several hours later, Tâ€™Pol and Malcolm sat across from Javon in the little cafe in the Vulcan section of the station. Javon showed her a PADD of information, written in Vulcan.

â€œYou believe this to be accurate? And the woman in question to be Ravel?â€

Javon nodded.

â€œWe canâ€™t be 100% sure, but the Vâ€™Shar put out word that we were seeking a woman of Ravelâ€™s description and that we would pay handsomely for her safe delivery.â€

Tâ€™Pol turned to Malcolm.

â€œA group of Orions are in possession of a female that matches Ravelâ€™s description. She was apparently apprehended in a section of the no-manâ€™s land just beyond Romulan space. Refugees from the Empire make good targets, and a female traveling alone, even one as well-trained and armed as Ravel, would be an easy target.â€

If Tâ€™Pol was remembering her own time in the hands of the Orions, she showed no sign of it.

â€œThey obviously want an excessive amount for her,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™ve been authorized to pay the amount upon proof of her identity. Youâ€™ve only met her once, but would you be able to identify her?â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œCan we arrange for the transfer to take place here on the station?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Javon, â€œThe Orions have been banned from this place, ever since the Alliance took possession of it. I have suggested the barren wasteland that used to be the Romulan mining colony as an alternate site. Itâ€™s heavily guarded and properly desolate. As long as the Orions donâ€™t believe we intend to interfere with their business, they should agree. My . . .companion Arian has agreed to act as as an intermediary.â€

â€œI shall also bring Tirak,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œHe is acquainted with our target, and she trusts him. She will be more manageable if he is present.â€

Javon turned to Malcolm.

â€œI donâ€™t think I need to tell you that a large security contingent will be the order of the day,â€ said Javon as he sipped on his Vulcan tea.

Malcolm shook his head, and Javon turned to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œEnterpriseâ€™s shuttlepods are too small for our purposes. Thereâ€™s slightly larger, better, well-armed transport available for hire on the station. It should hold you, Tirak, Mr. Reed and his security team comfortably. With more than ample room for Arian and myself.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced at Malcolm.

â€œProvided Mr. Reedâ€™s security team has ample access to the transport prior to our departure, that idea has merit.â€

â€œWhen will this exchange happen?â€

â€œThe Orions say they can be here in four days,â€ said Javon, â€œThatâ€™s enough time for me to obtain the funds to secure our target.â€

Tâ€™Pol and Malcolm nodded, and they began to hammer out details of the plan.

***

Malcolm and Tâ€™Pol walked through the busy halls of Enterprise. The ship was more crowded since two dozen of The Columbia crew had been billeted on Enterprise during the repairs.

â€œI hate supporting the Orions,â€ said Malcolm, â€œPart of me wants to just up and rescue Ravel, rather than handing all that money to them.â€

Tâ€™Pol had her hands clasped behind her back.

â€œThat would be illogical, Lt. Commander Reed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œPaying the money will be the most efficient and least risky means by which to secure Ravel.â€

â€œThat doesnâ€™t make it right, Commander,â€ replied Malcolm, â€œI used to think humans were above slavery. . .or supporting those who engage in it.â€

â€œThink of it as paying a ransom for her freedom,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œAlthough, I donâ€™t know what kind of freedom she will eventually be granted.â€

â€œIâ€™ll do that,â€ said Malcolm bitterly, â€œbut it wonâ€™t help.â€

â€œI will be briefing the Captain of the situation. Afterwards, he will no doubt wish to be briefed of your teamâ€™s plans to help secure the mission.â€

With that, Tâ€™Pol headed up to the Ready Room and Malcolm to the armory.

***

Hours later, Tâ€™Pol sat across from her brother in the mess hall. She marveled the range of emotions that crossed his face as she explained Ravelâ€™s situation and their plan to retrieve her. She cataloged a mixture of relief, rage, fear and disgust at what she had told him. She wondered if anyone on the ship actually thought he was a Vulcan, Vâ€™osh Kaâ€™tur or not.

â€œShe will likely be treated well,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œSince the Orions know of her value, they will not wish to damage her.â€

Enme leaned over the table and was clearly not even trying to look Vulcan.

â€œIf one hair on her head is damaged, Iâ€™ll rip every Orion on that colony apart with my bare hands,â€ he said.

â€œHer captivity will be an unpleasant experience for her, but she will likely be unharmed,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol smoothly.

She then told him all about her experience as a captive of the Orions, which only seemed to make Enme more enraged.

â€œWhat does the Captain think of you dealing with them again?â€

â€œHe believes since I am immune to the - special properties of the Orion females, I am an ideal person to lead the team. You and the rest of the male members of the security team will be inoculated against the effects prior to our departure.â€

Enme picked at his plate, which was piled with pasta.

â€œHave you ever eaten this, sister?â€ he asked, â€œItâ€™s most peculiar. Itâ€™s slivers of bread, dried then boiled then drained - then covered with sauce.â€

â€œI have tried it. It contains far too much starch for my liking.â€

â€œI did enjoy the fish from yesterday, what was it called. . .catfish.â€

â€œThat is the Captainâ€™s favorite dish. The fish is native to his region of Earth,â€ she replied.

â€œSpeaking of which, why arenâ€™t you dining with the Captain?â€ asked Enme.

â€œHeâ€™s dining with Captain Hernandez and her acting Chief Engineer this evening. They are discussing the repairs to The Columbia in detail. It was not necessary for me to attend.â€

â€œHow long are we to be stuck here at this station? Assuming we retrieve Ravel?â€

â€œThat all depends on the repairs of The Columbia,â€ she replied, â€œOnce she is fit enough to make the journey back to Earth, we will no doubt be given new orders.â€

Enme nodded. Both of them knew that his time on the ship, and the relative freedom that came with it, was short. To her surprise, Tâ€™Pol found the notion of parting from her brother disagreeable.

***

It was nearly midnight when Trip finally arrived home to his quarters. The Columbia repairs were progressing but issue after issue kept popping up, and he and Erika had to deal with each of them in tandem. He found Tâ€™Pol in bed, reading a paper book. It was her well-read copy of The Teachings of Surak.

â€œGood evening,â€ she said softly.

â€œFeels good to be home,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m beat. Wound up but beat. Iâ€™m sure glad The Columbia managed to hobble here - she was in worse shape than we were after Azati Prime. If she had been much farther away from help - it would have been ugly.â€

Trip felt Tâ€™Polâ€™s eyes on him as he readied himself for bed. She listened patiently as he chatted about the engines of The Columbia and how they planned on getting the warp drive back on line so they could make the trip to Jupiter Station.

â€œYou always did enjoy challenging repairs,â€ she said.

â€œI like them better when they are on someone elseâ€™s ship,â€ he said, â€œEspecially now that Iâ€™m the Captain of this one.â€

He climbed in bed next to her.

â€œYou require neural pressure,â€ she said as she placed her book carefully on the night stand.

â€œWhat makes you say that?â€

She sighed and reached a hand up to brush his face gently.

â€œYou are simultaneously exhausted and overstimulated. You require sleep, but your restlessness will prevent that.â€

Trip pulled off his t-shirt and rolled over.

â€œCouldnâ€™t we try something else to help me sleep?â€ he said as she began to apply pressure with her fingers.

â€œIf this fails,â€ she said soothingly.

It didnâ€™t fail, and soon he was in a deep, pleasant sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See previous chapter disclaimers about this being all in good fun.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: See previous chapter disclaimers about this being all in good fun.

Rating: R for profane language and violence.

A/N: Plot moves forth. One more chapter and an epilogue to go.  


* * *

Malcolm stared at Tâ€™Pol, who was taking an inventory of the weaponry that the security team would bring first to the station then on the leased transport that would take them to the mining colony. There, they would pay the Orions for Ravel.

Malcolm tapped his foot with impatience, and then he drummed his fingers on the console. He wanted to ask her something, but Tâ€™Pol was never much inclined to personal conversations. Still, this was both personal and business.

â€œMay I ask you a somewhat personal question, Commander?â€

Tâ€™Pol looked up. She was silent for a moment, then nodded.

â€œHow did you approach Admiral Archer about you and the Captain getting married? As far as Iâ€™ve heard, Starfleet simply accepted you two - regulations be damned.â€

Tâ€™Pol stepped closer to Malcolm. He assumed she knew exactly why he was bringing this up.

â€œOur marriage took place on Vulcan,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand we chose not to inform Starfleet until the ceremony was complete. However, at the time of our marriage we held the same rank, our personal relationship was not against regulations.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œHow did you bring up the subject when you returned?â€

â€œWe didnâ€™t need to do so. We registered as a mated couple on the transport from Vulcan. When Starfleet began investigating our disappearance, they discovered the marriage and informed Admiral Archer.â€

Malcolm shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.

â€œHow did he react?â€

â€œWhen Enterprise retrieved us after our abduction, Admiral Archer informed us that he had requested that we be able to continue to serve together on his ship. Starfleet agreed, as long as Admiral Archer felt our personal relationship did not interfere with our service to the ship.â€

â€œHe never said anything more than that?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised an eyebrow.

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œand he was most gracious in allowing us to combine living spaces.â€

Malcolm was silent.

â€œSo you never had any problems?â€

â€œNo,â€ she replied.

â€œBut you also never asked anyone for permission, either. They couldnâ€™t have been pleased with that. And you had to have worried that they wouldnâ€™t react well to two married officers.â€

Tâ€™Pol tapped into her PADD and then looked up at Malcolm.

â€œPrior to our marriage, the Captain and I discussed the possibility that Starfleet would object. We both agree that if Starfleet refused to let us serve together or took other punitive action, we would leave its service.â€

Malcolm searched Tâ€™Polâ€™s face, knowing he wouldnâ€™t find any hint of emotion regarding what must have been a very tough decision for them. He was silent for awhile.

â€œLt. Commander Reed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIs this your round about way of informing me that you have become engaged to marry Lt. Sato?â€

Malcolm sighed.

â€œDid she tell you?â€

â€œNo,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, glancing down at the simple titanium band she wore on her left finger â€œbut sheâ€™s been wearing a jeweled ring on her left finger. This is a human betrothal custom. I was also aware that you two were pursuing a romantic relationship.â€

Malcolm smiled.

â€œThere are no secrets on this ship. There never have been,â€ said Malcolm wryly, thinking of the rumors about Tâ€™Pol and Trip that flourished in The Expanse.

â€œLt. Sato reports to me directly. She is not in your chain of command. I will not object to the marriage if Starfleet or the Captain asks my opinion.â€

Malcolm leaned over.

â€œHow do you think Trip will react?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow. Malcolm smiled. Trip wouldnâ€™t object as long as they didnâ€™t interfere with the shipâ€™s operations. How could he? It was Starfleet they had to worry about.

â€œI believe the Captain will be supportive. He knows that stable personal relationships can benefit crew efficiency and morale.â€

Malcolm smiled, remembering the chaos that had ensued when Trip and Tâ€™Pol had broken up. It nearly caused Trip to leave the ship, not to mention creating all sorts of tension. Breakups were far more detrimental to crew dynamics than happy marriages.

â€œWe want to get married soon,â€ said Malcolm, â€œIâ€™m going to ask him to marry us as soon as we return from the colony.â€

The puzzled look on Tâ€™Polâ€™s face was priceless.

â€œItâ€™s a human tradition. The captain of a ship can officiate weddings. It applies to space faring vessels just as it did to Terran sailing vessels. Travis once told me heâ€™d seen his father perform at least four weddings. Hoshi and I donâ€™t want anything special, but we thought a dinner in the mess hall with everyone there would be fun. Nothing fancy. But Chefâ€™s going to want your permission for that.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œIf the Captain agrees,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIâ€™ll give my permission. . . Lt. Reed, the circumstances surrounding my marriage to the Captain were . . .unusual. Vulcan tradition considered us married before any ceremony was performed, and Ambassador Soval informed Starfleet Command of that. They made little objection to . . .the bond between the Captain and myself becoming official because they didnâ€™t wish to create a diplomatic incident. Any rejection of me as the Captainâ€™s wife could have been construed as an insult to my honor. . .Admiral Archer also told us that because I am Vulcan, Starfleet also believes that I am capable of making sure our relationship does not adversely affect shipâ€™s operations.â€

Malcolm thought about this for a moment. This was the most he had ever heard Tâ€™Pol speak about her marriage, and it wasnâ€™t much. But he realized she was telling him that Starfleet might not be as supportive of his impending nuptials.

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œWeâ€™ll just have to make sure that Starfleet sees the wisdom in allowing married human couples serve together. Both Hoshi and I are valuable to the war effort. . .and I doubt theyâ€™d be able to easily replace us.â€

Malcolm hoped that his intention was clear. It seemed it was when Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œIâ€™ll see you at the airlock in two hours, Lt. Commander Reed,â€ she said as she left the armory.

****

Tâ€™Pol entered the Ready Room and found Trip sitting at his desk staring grimly at the monitor screen. She sensed something had unsettled him. She stood formally in front of his desk in at ease position.

â€œCaptain,â€ she said, â€œIs everything all right?â€

Trip shook his head no.

â€œThis is a communique from Starfleet Command. There are six drone ships on their way - gunning to destroy this station. They should be here within 48 hours.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œI'll cancel the retrieval mission,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIâ€™m sure the Orions will be willing to wait until after the . . .coming encounter.â€

â€œThat wonâ€™t be necessary. Archer is on his way here with the whole fleet. Theyâ€™ll be here in ten hours. The station will be well-defended. Enterprise is going to provide tactical support - but the newer battle cruisers are going to face the drones head on. Our job will be to protect The Columbia, which is still crippled. Starfleet doesnâ€™t want her destroyed, sitting duck that she is. In the meantime, the boys at intelligence want Ravel. So, your mission is still on. But you and your team to stay out of the melee. Youâ€™re not to even leave the mining colony until you get clearance from me. Thatâ€™s an order. â€

Tâ€™Pol furrowed her brow. She understood what a â€œsitting duckâ€ was from context, but this was the first she had heard the metaphor. Trip smiled a little at her, and he knew what she was thinking.

â€œGlad my metaphors can still surprise you at least,â€ he said.

â€œAre you sure you wonâ€™t need me? Malcolm can handle the retrieval, and Iâ€™ll stay here.â€

â€œNo,â€ said Trip, â€œMalcolm hates the Orions. Doesnâ€™t trust Javon. And your brother has reason to hate Malcolm. Iâ€™d rather have you here, but itâ€™s better if you go and complete your mission. Weâ€™ll be fine. When the fleet arrives, weâ€™ll have the drones outgunned.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded. She didnâ€™t like the idea of being away from the ship during a battle, but his arguments were logical.

â€œOne more thing, Captain. Lt. Commander Reed intends to marry Lt. Sato when we return from mining colony. I expect he will inform you soon, perhaps even before we leave this afternoon.â€

Trip grinned.

â€œI noticed the rock Hoshiâ€™s been sporting. I figured thatâ€™d be coming. . . I guess that means Iâ€™ll be performing a wedding. . . .thatâ€™ll be fun.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œStarfleet Command may not be so enthusiastic,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol.

â€œWell,â€ replied Trip, â€œitâ€™s not like we can stop them. Theyâ€™re two grown adults. Iâ€™ll talk to the Admiral about it when things cool off. Iâ€™m sure heâ€™ll smooth things over - he did for us.â€

Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t share his optimism, but she said nothing.

â€œAre you about all set to leave?â€ he asked.

â€œThe preparations are complete,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Trip glanced over at the chronometer.

â€œVery well, Commander. Dismissed.â€

â€œThank you, Captain,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, and she turned and headed back to the bridge.

****

Later that afternoon, Tâ€™Pol found herself on the bridge of a transport ship. The ship itself was about four times as big as a shuttlepod, and in addition to the bridge, it included three cabins, a galley and bathroom facilities. The chairs, chaises and tables arranged in each cabin designed for comfort and Tâ€™Polâ€™s nose could detect a slight tobacco smell behind the antiseptics that had been used to scrub down the ship. The bridge was small, with only room for three people.

On one side of her was Malcolm and on the other was her brother, dressed in his Vulcan attire. Malcolmâ€™s security team were ensconced in the largest of the back compartments. They were simply waiting for Javon and Arian to arrive. The Vâ€™Shar agent and his Orion girlfriend were late, which irritated Tâ€™Pol, since Vulcans believed in punctuality. As if he was reading her thoughts, Enme spoke.

â€œI thought you Vulcans were monochronic,â€ he said.

Malcolm looked confused.

â€œMeaning you show up precisely on time,â€ said Enme, â€œMy people are a little different. If you are requested to show up for dinner at 7 in the evening, then youâ€™d best not show until 9. It would be rude. Perhaps your Javon has a little of us Romulans in him.â€

Tâ€™Pol glared at her brother.

â€œJavon has no doubt been delayed,â€ she said, â€œThe situation on the station is chaotic.â€

As if on cue, there was a commotion in the back compartment. Malcolm smiled, and Tâ€™Pol marched back to assess the situation. When she arrived, she saw Javon and Arian, dressed in traditional, ornate Vulcan robes. They had several suitcases with them, and Arian was carrying a small animal of some kind. Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t recognize the furry creature, but it appeared feline rather than canine yet it made a soft howl as it wiggled in its mistressâ€™s arms.

Javon turned to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œArian heard a rumor that there are drone ships on their way to destroy the station. She wouldnâ€™t leave behind Moppet.â€

Moppet sneezed and then let out a faint whine. Tâ€™Pol realized that she somewhat missed Porthos, and then turned to Javon.

â€œThe third cabin is yours. There will be plenty of room for all three of you.â€

â€œVery good,â€ said Javon, â€œI hear the fleet is on its way. Let me know if Starfleet would like some recommendations for entertainment venues on the station. Iâ€™m sure Arian can provide plenty of recommendations.â€

â€œOf that I have no doubt,â€ said Tâ€™Pol as she turned and headed back to the bridge. The sooner they were underway, the sooner the exchange could be made and she could return to the ship.

***

The next day, Trip sat on the bridge of the Enterprise. Admiral Archer appeared on the viewscreen before him.

â€œHowâ€™s it going Trip?â€ he said, smiling.

â€œAll is well,â€ he said, â€œThe Columbia has been evacuated. A third of her crew are aboard Enterprise, the rest I believe have boarded your ship.â€

â€œErika says thanks for taking care of her ship. Sheâ€™s furious we ordered an evacuation, but with no weapons on line, itâ€™s the safest thing for her crew. Hopefully, the drones will concentrate on the station. Have you heard from Tâ€™Pol?â€

Trip nodded.

â€œThe exchange will happen at 1100 hours. Then, theyâ€™ll wait until the all clear to return to the station. The Vâ€™Shar has been notified, as has Starfleet Intelligence - per your orders.â€

Archer nodded.

â€œVery good. Also, youâ€™ll see that the drone ETA has been stepped up. We expect them at 1123. Inform your crew.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Trip, and he glanced around his bridge.

Malcolmâ€™s number 2, Lt. Carson was at tactical, but Trip decided to replace her with The Columbiaâ€™s chief tactical officer, Lt. Soo. Soo had been on duty during the drone attack that had crippled The Columbia and had developed a strong tactical defense system for NX class ships.

Travis was at the helm, and Hoshi was on the comm. The only vacant position was the science station, and he would call down and have Lt. Leara Drake take that position. He wished that Tâ€™Pol would be there during his first real battle as Captain as she was highly experience at space combat, but on the other hand, he was happy that she was safe on the mining colony, surrounded by a robust security team.

Trip took a deep breath and glanced at the chronometer. The drones would be there in less than an hour.

****

Admiral Jonathan Archer sat in his ready room, staring out at the station and the twin NX Starships that were docked at her. Even though his current ready room was double the size of his old one, part of him wished he was still on Enterprise as the battle approached. His big, lumbering ship was certainly better armed, but it wasnâ€™t as maneuverable and would mostly be providing support for the small, swift battle cruisers that would be going after the drones.

Instinctively, he reached down into a cabinet under his desk and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a drink - but he didnâ€™t sip. He just stared at it as he stared out his window.

â€œDo you think you should be drinking this early? Itâ€™s not even noon,â€ said Erika, who had appeared in his doorway.

He said nothing, but he poured the drink back into the bottle.

â€œOh. . .and thereâ€™s a about to be a rather large space battle,â€ she continued, â€œOne that you are in command of.â€

Archer folded his arms. She approached the edge of the desk, and she folded her arms right back at him.

â€œWas that your first one? Or do I have to call the doctor to relieve you?â€ she continued.

Archer wanted to snap at her, tell her that she was out of line. He wanted to throw her in the brig. He could do that. He was the Admiral of this fleet.

But there was no judgement in her eyes, only concern and . . .strangely enough support. She was protecting him. He wasnâ€™t the most astute of men when it came to feelings, but he realized that.

â€œThat was my first one,â€ he said, â€œIâ€™m stone cold sober.â€

Erika softened her stance.

â€œGood,â€ she said, â€œThen thereâ€™s nothing more to discuss. At least until after the battle. Then, if you want to talk about starting on anti-intoxicating meds - Iâ€™ll be there to listen. Off the record. As your former girlfriend, not your subordinate.â€

Archer sighed with relief. Erika wouldnâ€™t say anything, unless she felt like she had to. She was in his corner.

â€œI want you on the bridge with me, Captain,â€ said Archer, â€œIâ€™ll be depending on your expertise with drone ships.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ she said.

â€œDismissed, Captain.â€

Erika turned on her heel and exited the ready room. Archer then did something that he thought was somewhat sacrilegious. He took the bottle of Kentucky bourbon from under his desk and tossed it in the recycler. He winced, but until he talked to the doctor he couldnâ€™t have that temptation around.

He also thought about suggesting that Starfleet relax some of its fraternization rules. As long as Erikaâ€™s ship wasnâ€™t in his fleet, there shouldnâ€™t be an issue.

***

Tâ€™Pol stared in mute horror at the woman the Orions presented to her. Ravel was curled up in a ball between the two landing parties, having been unceremoniously dumped there by one of the big Orions. Big, bronze bruises marred her face, her clothes were in tatters and her hair was tangled and matted. She also wore one of the odious Orion control collars. Tâ€™Pol felt a hint of emotion welling up deep inside her psyche, but she suppressed it. Nevertheless, she was disquieted by the memory of the competent and strong woman who had abducted her and Trip.

Standing next to her, her brother started swearing in Romulan. Tâ€™Polâ€™s Romulan vocabulary was limited, but she recognized his words as profane from his inflections.

â€œBe calm, brother,â€ whispered Tâ€™Pol, â€œShe is alive, and she will be safe soon enough. But you must confirm her identity before Arian makes the exchange.â€

The were all standing on what once had been the Romulan Mining Colonyâ€™s launch pad. Tâ€™Pol stood with her brother, Malcolm stood behind her with his security team and to the left of them were Arian and Javon.

Enme shouted something in Romulan to Ravel. She shouted something back.

â€œItâ€™s her,â€ said Enme in English.

Tâ€™Pol nodded at Arian, who took the case with the payment and placed it next to Ravel.

â€œNow remove the collar,â€ said Arian, so forcefully that everyone, except Javon, appeared surprised.

The big Orion did as Arian ordered, then he took the case and checked its contents. He nodded at one of the Orion females.

â€œOur business is concluded,â€ said the female to Arian.

Arian nodded. In mere minutes, the Orions boarded their ship and the door shut behind them. As it began to take off, Enme went and knelt next to Ravel. He gathered her into his arms and started speaking to her in Romulan. She returned his embrace and then allowed him to help her to her feet.

â€œShe needs medical attention,â€ said Enme, â€œThey shot down her ship and havenâ€™t even checked her for internal injuries.â€

â€œThe Vulcan ship that is in orbit has plentiful medical facilities. Theyâ€™ll take good care of her. They know far more about Romulan physiology than the humans,â€ said Javon.

â€œOur doctor is Denobulan,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œand he is an expert in humanoid biodiversity.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced at Malcolm, and he glanced back at her. With only a look, they each conveyed their surprise at the presence of a Vulcan vessel in orbit.

Javon approached Tâ€™Pol and handed her a PADD.

â€œYouâ€™ll see here that the Vulcans have been granted custody of the Romulan spy Ravel. As you know, she spent years undercover on Vulcan, and the Vâ€™Shar as well as the government at large wishes to know exactly what she reported to her former commanders.â€

Enme looked at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIt was my understanding that Enterprise was ordered to retrieve Ravel,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

â€œAnd youâ€™ve fulfilled that order,â€ said Javon, â€œand the Vâ€™Shar and the Vulcan government thanks you for your service. Youâ€™ll see from the orders on that PADD that Starfleet Intelligence has approved of the Vâ€™Shar taking custody of the second defector.â€

Enme spoke briskly to Ravel, who turned to Tâ€™Pol.

â€œI request formal asylum from Starfleet,â€ said Ravel in Vulcan, â€œI wish to defect to Earth not Vulcan.â€

Tâ€™Pol closed her eyes but just briefly.

â€œAs a Starfleet officer,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œI must at least notify Starfleet Command of her request. Admiral Jonathan Archer is in the vicinity. I will make the request of him.â€

Javon shook his head.

â€œAdmirals higher up than him have already made this decision,â€ said Javon in English.

â€œYou treacherous mother-fucker,â€ said Enme in English, â€œYou cocksucking bastard,â€ he shouted.

Malcolm looked at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œYou didnâ€™t teach him those words, did you Commander?â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, â€œbut it is possible that your fiance did. You might want to have a talk with her.â€

â€œIndeed,â€ said Malcolm.

Meanwhile, Arian stepped between Enme and Javon.

â€œHe doesnâ€™t practice incest or homosexual relations. And Iâ€™m in a position to know,â€ she said firmly.

â€œThe Vulcan ship is waiting to transport her,â€ said Javon.

Tâ€™Pol took Javon to one side.

â€œThe defectors are more likely to cooperate if they are together,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œIt is unwise to keep them separated.â€

Javon whispered in her ear.

â€œYour regard for your brother is clouding your judgement, Tâ€™Pol. The possibility of seeing her someday might just be more conducive to his cooperation and less conducive to the two of them conspiring against us.â€

Tâ€™Pol glared at Javon.

â€œI disagree. . . .â€

Tâ€™Pol couldnâ€™t finish. She felt a searing pain in her head, but she reached up to find no wound on it. Blackness consumed her and she fell to the ground.

***

On Enterprise, Hoshi knelt next to Trip, who had a head wound from flying debris. He was out cold, and Hoshi immediately flashed back to his time in The Expanse and his coma. It couldnâ€™t be a good thing that he had more head trauma. She used her hand to compress the bleeding.

â€œLt. Drake,â€ ordered Hoshi, â€œCall down to sickbay. Tell Phlox what has happened. The Captain needs to be taken to sickbay. Travis, evasive pattern 3B.â€

â€œYes, maâ€™am,â€ said Travis.

After Drake had called sickbay, Hoshi called her over so she could continue compressing Tripâ€™s head wound. Hoshi hoped the injury wasnâ€™t too severe, and she crawled up into the big chair. One of the drone ships had been gunning for The Columbia, and it appeared that Tripâ€™s targeting of its impulse engines with close range modified phase canon blasts had worked - but the move had created a kickback that had shaken the ship and wounded her captain

Nevertheless, the Captain had succeeded in protecting The Columbia and had crippled one of the drones. Hoshi just needed to finish the job.

â€œSoo,â€ said Hoshi, â€œtarget the droneâ€™s warp core. We shouldnâ€™t have to get that close this time to destroy it.â€


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is not my world. Paramount owns it. No profit made.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: This is not my world. Paramount owns it. No profit made.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Last Chapter! But an epilogue is coming because we do have to see the forthcoming wedding.  


* * *

Tâ€™Pol opened her eyes, and she found herself on a familiar Florida beach, though she had never physically been there. The air was clean, if salty, and a cool breeze blew. Tâ€™Pol looked around and saw no other humanoids. She remembered this place was Tripâ€™s â€œwhite spaceâ€, but she didnâ€™t see him. Instinctively, she walked towards the dunes, and there she found him, sprawled on a blanket in a small valley between the dunes.

â€œTrip,â€ she said, â€œwhat happened?â€

â€œDunno,â€ he said, â€œSoo told me that weâ€™d crippled a drone ship that was gunning for The Columbia. Next thing I know, I wake up here. Iâ€™m glad you came. I missed you.â€

Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t tell him that she hadnâ€™t arrived on purpose. There would be time for that later. She knelt down next to him and examined his head. In least in his mind, there was no visible injury.

â€œYouâ€™ve been wounded,â€ she said, â€œItâ€™s a head wound.â€

â€œI do have a splitting headache,â€ he sighed, â€œI wish Phlox was here.â€

Tâ€™Pol assumed that Phlox was probably treating Trip at that very moment. She checked his vital signs, they werenâ€™t robust but they werenâ€™t faint either.

â€œYou need to focus your mind on healing your body,â€ she said, â€œI can help.â€

Trip closed his eyes, smiling dreamily.

â€œOkay,â€ he said, â€œI can do that. . . .â€

She took his hand.

â€œAllow me to help you,â€ she said.

Tâ€™Pol knew that the only way she would get out of this white space was if Tripâ€™s body healed. As long as his subconscious mind thought it needed her, she wouldnâ€™t be able to leave. She used their telepathic link to send as much energy to Tripâ€™s mind and body as she could. The stronger she could make him, the quicker he would heal and she could return to her body.

â€œJust once Iâ€™d like to get another kind of wound. . .maybe in the leg or arm or something simple like that,â€ he whispered.

â€œThat would certainly be less intrusive,â€ said Tâ€™Pol softly, humoring his illogical desire to control the types of injuries his body sustained.

â€œRest now,â€ she continued in a whisper, â€œconcentrate on getting well.â€

Trip inhaled and smiled.

â€œIâ€™m glad youâ€™re here, baby,â€ he said.

****

Malcolmâ€™s trained eyes immediately assessed the situation. His CO was collapsed at his feet and his battered retrieval target had asked for asylum, though a Vulcan ship was about to transport her away. Malcolm glanced down an Tâ€™Polâ€™s unconscious form and noticed she was breathing. He ordered his team to aim their phase pistols at Arian and Javon.

â€œDowning,â€ barked Malcolm to his second, â€œSee to the Commander.â€

With that, Malcolm stepped around Tâ€™Pol and approached Enme and Ravel. Malcolm removed a small device from his belt and tossed it to Enme.

â€œPin that to her clothes,â€ he said, â€œand make sure itâ€™s switched on.â€

Enme nodded. The entire landing party had been issued transporter jammers. Since Hoshi and Tâ€™Pol had been kidnapped on the station, Malcolm had made it standard practice for any personnel on away missions to carry one. He had even thought of making sure he and his team had extras.

Enme did as Reed commanded, fastening the device to Ravelâ€™s arm as he spoke softly to her in Romulan.

â€œDonâ€™t be a fool, human,â€ said Javon, â€œYou clearly need to get Tâ€™Pol medical treatment, youâ€™re only delaying the inevitable and putting your commanding officer at risk for a Romulan spy.â€

Malcolm glanced down at Tâ€™Pol.

â€œHow is she?â€

â€œItâ€™s almost as though sheâ€™s asleep, sir,â€ said Downing, â€œSheâ€™s breathing and has a strong pulse. Sheâ€™s just out cold.â€

Malcolm nodded. Tâ€™Pol didnâ€™t appear at deathâ€™s door, but he had no way of knowing what alien or Vulcan sickness had overtaken her and thought it prudent to get her back to Enterprise and sickbay as soon as possible.

â€œCheck the information I gave to Tâ€™Pol, Mr. Reed,â€ said Javon, â€œYouâ€™ll see itâ€™s legitimate. Contact your Starfleet. Your superiors will order you to hand over Ravel.â€

Malcolm glanced down at the PADD that had fallen from Tâ€™Polâ€™s hands when she collapsed. As he approached it, he stomped his boot on the device. It broke with a crack.

â€œSo sorry Javon. . .â€ he said, â€œIt seems that your PADD is damaged. Weâ€™re going to have to take Ravel to Enterprise to confirm whatever orders we get from Starfleet. I suggest you transport up to the Vulcan ship with Arian. And Moppet. My team can help you with your luggage. I donâ€™t think there will be enough room on the transport for the two of you now that weâ€™ve picked up Ravel.â€

Malcolm glanced at the petite Romulan woman, who was about Tâ€™Polâ€™s size. He also looked up at Tâ€™Polâ€™s brother, who locked eyes with him.

Donâ€™t do anything stupid mate, thought Malcolm, Iâ€™ve got this covered.

Enme acknowledged him with a blink.

â€œItâ€™s quite obvious sheâ€™s going to take up a lot of room,â€ continued Malcolm.

Malcolm studied Javon carefully. This was a man who knew how to take care of himself and get what he wanted, but he was also a man wise enough not to move against six well-trained Starfleet officers with phase pistols pointed at him.

Malcolm ordered one of his men to remove Javon and Arianâ€™s luggage. That went smoothly, but Moppet did bite the Ensign as he brought the creature from the transport ship. With fingers bleeding, he placed Moppet on the ground and the creature dashed toward his mistress. Arian scooped up her pet.

â€œBe careful with those cases,â€ she said to the Ensign who was lining up their luggage on the opposite side of the landing pad.

Javon sighed. To his surprise, Malcolm saw emotion in the manâ€™s face. Not human emotion, but a kind of Vulcan contempt he hasnâ€™t seen since the days before Enterpriseâ€™s maiden launch.

â€œWeâ€™ll be in touch with the Vulcan ship as soon as we return to Enterprise,â€ said Malcolm, â€œTirak, take Ravel aboard the transport.â€

For a split second, Enme was puzzled at the sound of his Vulcan name, but then he quickly led Ravel up to the door of the transport, which remained open, and they disappeared inside.

Javon shrugged.

â€œYouâ€™ve only delayed the inevitable transfer,â€ said Javon, â€œand Earth needs allies at this point.â€

â€œSo does Vulcan,â€ said Malcolm, who turned his attention to Tâ€™Pol. â€œCan she be carried onto the ship?â€

Malcolm knew Downing had training as medic.

â€œI think so, sir,â€ said Downing, â€œAgain, she doesnâ€™t appear hurt. Just asleep.â€

Malcolm nodded.

â€œMake it so,â€ he said, with his best British-get-things-done formality.

Downing scooped the Vulcan and carried her into the transport ship. Then, Malcolm and his team back slowly into the ship. His eyes didnâ€™t leave Javonâ€™s until the door closed.

****

Phlox stood over the wounded Captain of Enterprise, examining the scans taken by the imaging chamber. The gash on on the left side of Tripâ€™s head had been stitched up and cleaned by Phloxâ€™s osmotic eel, but he had lost a good deal of blood, and he had a concussion.

â€œIs he going to wake up soon?â€ asked Hoshi, who was still in shock to be the acting Captain.

â€œNot until tomorrow,â€ said Phlox, â€œIâ€™ve induced his coma so that the Captain can recover from his injury. As you well know, this isnâ€™t his first head trauma, and I want to be extra careful.â€

Hoshi nodded. The battle had been over for several hours, and all the drone ships had been destroyed.

â€œHave you heard from Commander Tâ€™Pol?â€ asked Phlox, â€œI assume sheâ€™ll want to be informed of the Captainâ€™s condition.â€

Hoshi shook her head.

â€œNobodyâ€™s been at the comm since . . .I got in the big chair,â€ said Hoshi, â€œIâ€™ll head back to the bridge. I know the landing party isn't even supposed to head back here until theyâ€™ve got clearance. I probably better go do that.â€

Phlox nodded and returned to his patient.

â€œGood luck, Lieutenant,â€ said Phlox as the acting captain rushed back toward the bridge.

***

Aboard the transport, Malcolm studied the senors. A Vulcan ship was most certainly in orbit around the mining colony. So were two Tellarite ships and one Andorian cruiser, assigned to guard the colony and its dilithium deposits.

Enme appeared on the bridge and sat down next to Malcolm.

â€œTâ€™Pol is still asleep,â€ he said, â€œbut she doesnâ€™t appear to be in immediate danger. Ensign Downing doesnâ€™t want to risk trying to revive her with a stimulant until the shipâ€™s doctor has a chance to determine whatâ€™s wrong with her.â€

Malcolm sighed. It sounded wise.

â€œHowâ€™s Ravel?â€ he asked.

â€œDowning scanned her for internal injuries,â€ said Enme, â€œShe has a fractured bone in her shoulder, a fractured wrist and bruises everywhere. But he doesnâ€™t believe sheâ€™s permanently damaged.â€

Malcolm was relieved. The poor woman looked as though she had been through quite an ordeal.

â€œThank you,â€ said Enme, â€œfor intervening on behalf of Ravel. The Vulcans. . .would not be as kind to her as you humans would be. . .of that Iâ€™m sure,â€ said Enme.

Malcolm nodded at the man. He spoke the truth, though Malcolm was sure the Vulcans wouldnâ€™t physically harm Ravel, he wasnâ€™t sure what mojo they would work with their mind melds to get information from her. He had read a Section 31 report that Tâ€™Pol had been seriously damaged by a botched mind meld. Only the skill of Administrator Tâ€™Pau had healed Tâ€™Pol, and Malcolm seriously doubted someone at Tâ€™Pauâ€™s level would be working on Ravel.

â€œI was only doing what I believed my Commander would have done had she been able. Tâ€™Pol made it clear she intended to pursue Ravelâ€™s asylum claim before her collapse. As a Starfleet officer, Iâ€™m obligated to try and carry out the wishes of an indisposed commanding officer.â€

Enme nodded, although Malcolm had a feeling the Romulan knew that he could have just as easily handed Ravel over. It probably would have been less trouble.

Oh well, thought Malcolm, the crew of Enterprise never did shy away from trouble. Iâ€™m just carrying on the tradition started by Archer and continued by both Trip and Tâ€™Pol.

****

The leased transport docked straight at Enterpriseâ€™s airlock. Hoshi met them there, and Malcolm had never seen her look so relieved.

â€œBoy,â€ said Hoshi, â€œam I glad to see you.â€

In a complete breach of protocol, Hoshi threw herself into Malcolmâ€™s arms.

â€œYouâ€™re now acting captain,â€ she said, as though the embrace passed the mantle of command to Malcolm.

Malcolm looked back to see if anyone had seen the bear hug, and then he smiled softly.

â€œHowâ€™s Trip?â€ he said in a low voice, so that none of his subordinates could hear him use the captainâ€™s familiar name.

â€œPhlox says he just needs time to heal. Whatâ€™s wrong with Tâ€™Pol?â€

â€œShe just collapsed. . .she appears to be in some kind of coma.â€

Malcolm and Hoshi looked at each other. Both of them knew about the Vulcan mating bond their commanding officers shared.

â€œDo you think Phlox knows about their telepathic bond?â€ asked Malcolm.

â€œYouâ€™d think itâ€™d be in their medical files,â€ said Hoshi, â€œbut Iâ€™ll tell him.â€

A couple of Phloxâ€™s assistants had brought a gurney for Tâ€™Pol, and they were wheeling her to sickbay.

â€œDo that,â€ said Malcolm, â€œIâ€™ve got to contact Admiral Archer. The Vulcan Javon tried to give custody of Ravel to the Vulcans, but sheâ€™s asked for asylum here. Before she collapsed, Tâ€™Pol made clear her intent to petition Starfleet for her. Ravel made it known she doesnâ€™t want to be transferred to the Vulcans.â€

Hoshiâ€™s eyes widened.

â€œWeâ€™ll straighten it out,â€ said Malcolm.

Enme and Ravel stumbled out of the airlock together.

â€œWelcome aboard, Ravel,â€ said Malcolm, â€œThis is Lt. Sato, sheâ€™s on her way to sickbay, and she can escort you and. . .Tirak there.â€

Malcolm gestured to Enme with his head, hoping a trained operative like Ravel would recognize the necessity of Enme being given a Vulcan name.

â€œThank you, Mr. Reed,â€ said Ravel softly.

Enme took her arm, and the two of them followed Hoshi down the corridor.

***

Trip was now sitting up. He sat cross legged across from Tâ€™Pol on a beach blanket. Tâ€™Pol had been attempting to help him meditate, so his physical body could better heal.

â€œHow long you figure weâ€™ve been here?â€

â€œItâ€™s difficult to say. The passage of time here does not coincide with the physical world.â€

Trip took both her small hands into his.

â€œIâ€™m feeling better,â€ said Trip, â€œWhen I first got here I couldnâ€™t even sit up.â€

â€œThen it shouldnâ€™t be long until weâ€™re awake.â€

Trip sighed.

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ he said, â€œEnterpriseâ€™s captain and first officer are both - indisposed. Youâ€™re supposed to be in charge if something happens to me. Well, somethinâ€™ happened and weâ€™re both stuck here when weâ€™re needed elsewhere. And thereâ€™s a war on.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, her face a Vulcan mask.

â€œPerhaps Mr. Reed would be a better first officer.â€

Trip sighed.

â€œBut youâ€™re the best first officer in Starfleet. You keep the ship running, darlinâ€™ I wouldnâ€™t be able to do my job on a daily basis without you, and Iâ€™m not just saying that because youâ€™re the love of my life.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded again, silent.

â€œSo, whatâ€™s the logical solution, Miss Vulcan?â€

â€œI will meditate on the matter,â€ she said softly.

Trip didnâ€™t need a telepathic bond to recognize the faint hint of sadness in her voice. He knew that she figured whatever the logical solution was, he wasnâ€™t going to like it. He clutched her hands tighter in his big ones, and he he closed his eyes hoping that when he awoke he would be back on Enterprise where he belonged.

****

Malcolm sat in the Ready Room, staring at Admiral Jonathan Archerâ€™s image on the monitor.

â€œSheâ€™s not a prisoner,â€ said Malcolm, â€œSheâ€™s a defector, and she wants to defect to Earth and not Vulcan.â€

Archer shook his head. He didnâ€™t look happy.

â€œI agree with you Malcolm, but the top brass thinks this is a bone they can throw to the Vulcans. Iâ€™ll bet the Vâ€™Shar is offering something big in exchange for Ravel, though I donâ€™t know what it is.â€

Malcolm bit his lip.

â€œDo we have any recourse? Can we appeal in a civilian court?â€

Archer shook his head.

â€œThis is a top secret military matter, remember? Nobodyâ€™s even supposed to know what Romulans look like or know we have any contact with them at all.â€

Malcolm started to feel sick to his stomach. Enme had vouched for humans, and Ravel had trusted them.

â€œBy the way,â€ said Archer, â€œIâ€™m ordering Enterprise on a diplomatic mission to Denobula, asking them for assistance in building the coalition. Since youâ€™ve got Phlox aboard, Enterprise can bring a perspective no other ship can. Itâ€™s a mission far more important than a run-of-the-mill prisoner transfer. Youâ€™re to leave as soon as you can get under way. The Vulcans will just have to wait to get Ravel.â€

Malcolm smiled. A diplomatic mission to Denobula would take a few weeks, at least. It wasnâ€™t much, but it was time bought.

â€œThank you, Admiral.â€

â€œGet going, Mr. Reed,â€ said Archer with a smile, â€œI have no idea when the Vulcan ship might show up demanding a prisoner transfer, and you just donâ€™t have time to spare.â€

â€œYes, sir,â€ said Malcolm.

****

Tripâ€™s eyes fluttered open. He recognized the ceiling of sickbay. He had seen it enough times from the perspective of a biobed.

â€œDonâ€™t try and sit up, Captain,â€ said Phlox, â€œJust tell me how you feel.â€

â€œSleepy,â€ said Trip, â€œbut otherwise I feel okay.â€

Phlox smiled down at him, one of those creepy Denobulan smiles for which Trip had developed a fondness.

â€œIâ€™ve given you a good dose of pain medication,â€ said the doctor, â€œSo, your head should not be bothering you.â€

â€œHowâ€™s Tâ€™Pol?â€ asked Trip.

Phlox glanced behind him.

â€œYou tell me. She seems to have lapsed into a coma at the same time you went unconscious. The Vulcan database is vague on the effects of mating bonds, but my guess is your telepathic link caused a sympathy coma in her.â€

Trip took a deep breath and gingerly felt his head wound, feeling a tinge of guilt.

â€œNot quite. My subconscious mind decided that my body needed her mental energy to help me heal. So, I pulled her into the coma with me without even realizing it.â€

Phloxâ€™s grin became even wider.

â€œAnd you two were able to discuss this while you were unconscious state? Fascinating! Utterly fascinating! Do you think the Commander would mind if I wrote a paper on this incident? Thereâ€™s so little data on the effect of a Vulcan mating bond - let alone an interspecies one! â€œ

Trip looked over at the biobed next to him and saw Tâ€™Pol. She was still in a deep sleep.

â€œCan you wake her now?â€ asked Trip.

â€œIâ€™ll give her a stimulant if she doesnâ€™t come around in a few minutes, but I expect sheâ€™ll awake on her own soon enough.â€

â€œIs Malcolm in the big chair?â€ asked Trip.

â€œHe is,â€ said Phlox, â€œHe wanted to know when you were awake. He also wanted me to inform you that Admiral Archer has ordered Enterprise to Denobula on a diplomatic mission. Weâ€™re already heading there.â€

Trip paused. From the shipâ€™s hum, he guessed they were traveling at about Warp 4.5. Trip squinted his eyes a little, trying to think of a reason Jonathan would send them so far away from the action.

â€œI believe thereâ€™s more going on that just what appears on the surface, Captain,â€ said Phlox as though he was reading Tripâ€™s mind, â€œbut Mr. Reed will want to inform you of the details.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œWhen can I return to duty?â€

â€œIf you promise to rest and keep your duty shifts to eight hours for the next week, you can return to duty tomorrow afternoon.â€

Trip nodded.

â€œGet Malcolm down here,â€ he said.

â€œYes, Captain,â€ said Phlox as he headed for the comm.

***

Malcolm sat across from the two Romulan defectors in the captainâ€™s mess, a space he chose because it was private and it created the illusion that the two â€œVulcansâ€ aboard the ship were guests. Hoshi sat at his side.

â€œSo,â€ said Enme, â€œYouâ€™ve only bought a couple weeks. The Vulcans will still expect you to hand Ravel over.â€

Malcolm nodded, as Enme grabbed Ravelâ€™s hand.

The day before, Phlox had treated Ravelâ€™s wounds and told her to get bed rest. Malcolm had seen to it that she was assigned guest quarters next to the Vulcan Tirak. Not being a complete dove, Malcolm had also ordered his team to keep a close watch on their Vulcan guests. However, he also thought that after he had intervened on Ravelâ€™s behalf, there was little chance the two Romulans would betray him or Tâ€™Pol. Starfleet and the Vâ€™Shar were another matter, but Malcolm believed that both Enme and Ravel would consider it a dishonor to betray their protectors.

â€œWhen Tâ€™Pol awakens, and Phlox thinks she will shortly, weâ€™ll ask her if we have any recourse from the Vulcan side.â€

â€œCanâ€™t you just leave us on Denobula?â€ asked Ravel, â€œWeâ€™ll disappear somewhere. No one will ever know.â€

Malcolm paused. Thus far, they had broken no rules, but letting to Romulans go scott free would have serious consequences.

â€œIt may come to that, but youâ€™d spend your lives on the run from both your own people and the Vulcans,â€ interjected Hoshi, â€œIt will be better if we can figure out a way to keep you under Terran protection.â€

â€œIt will be in Earthâ€™s best interest to keep me,â€ said Ravel.

â€œHow so?â€ asked Malcolm.

â€œWhen Enmeâ€™s father was assassinated, I wasnâ€™t the only member of his inner circle that was forced into exile. There are dozens of us, and many have escaped to what you call no manâ€™s land - this neutral zone between Alliance and Romulan space.â€

â€œGo on,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œLike Enme and myself, these people will now consider it their patriotic duty to see the current Romulan government overthrown. And the quickest way to see that a Romulan regime is overthrown is for them to suffer a major military defeat. . .Enme was gone before the coup, but before I was captured by the Orions, I was in contact with several refugee ships. I wonâ€™t reveal the position of the refugees to the Vulcans. Iâ€™ll die first. But if Earth were to offer them asylum, they might be convinced to help you in your war effort.â€

Malcolm was silent.

â€œWeâ€™re talking engineers who designed Romulan Warships,â€ said Enme, â€œWeâ€™re talking physicians who can give you all the information you want on Romulan biology to make bioweapons, weâ€™re talking officers of the Imperial Army well-versed in Romulan tactical strategy. But every moment you wait, makes it more likely that my people will hunt the refugees down and annihilate them.â€

The comm buzzed. Phloxâ€™s voice echoed into the room.

â€œMr. Reed, the Captain is awake and asking to see you.â€

â€œUnderstood,â€ said Malcolm.

â€œGo ahead and eat without me,â€ said Malcolm standing up, â€œIâ€™ll be back soon enough.â€

***

Tâ€™Polâ€™s eyes slowly opened. She recognized the ceiling of sickbay, and she heard Trip and Malcolmâ€™s voices close to her. They werenâ€™t speaking to her but rather to each other.

â€œAh, Commander,â€ said Phlox, â€œItâ€™s good to see you awake. You gave Mr. Reed and the security team quite a scare on the mining colony.â€

Tâ€™Pol attempted to sit up.

â€œDonâ€™t try and sit up, Commander,â€ he said, â€œYouâ€™ve been unconscious for nearly 36 hours. You need time to recover.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded, and she turned on her side to see Trip sitting on the edge of a bio bed and Malcolm standing next to him.

â€œHow are you feelinâ€™, darling?â€

â€œIâ€™m fatigued, Captain, but otherwise I feel healthy,â€ said Tâ€™Pol with the utmost of professionalism.

â€œGood to hear it,â€ replied Trip, â€œMalcolm made sure not to hand over Ravel to the Vulcans and Admiral Archer bought us some time by sending us half across the quadrant and away from the front lines. . .but its looking more and more like the Starfleet intends to hand Ravel over to your old friends at the Vâ€™Shar. Sheâ€™s terrified and your brotherâ€™s about to blow a gasket.â€

Tâ€™Pol nodded.

â€œAny suggestions as to how we can talk the Vulcans out of this?â€ asked Malcolm.

Tâ€™Pol gazed up at Malcolm, and she pondered the situation for only a moment.

â€œI have one suggestion,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œbut I must make it to my. . .to Tirak,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Trip and Malcolm glanced at each other.

â€œPhlox,â€ said Tâ€™Pol, â€œWhen will I be released? I need to speak with Tirak and Ravel as soon as possible.â€

****

â€œI must what?â€ said Enme.

â€œYou must marry Ravel,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Enme shook his head, in shock. Tâ€™Pol had hoped to inform Ravel and him together, but Ravel had retired early from exhaustion. She was still traumatized by her experience with the Orions.

â€œVulcan law is very strict regarding a husbandâ€™s right to physically access his spouse. Our mating cycles make it a necessity. Since you are under Starfleetâ€™s protection, that protection would apply to your spouse under Vulcan law.â€

Enme looked out the window and stared at the blur of stars.

â€œBut Iâ€™m not Vulcan,â€ said Enme, â€œSurely, they can override the law in the case of other species.â€

Tâ€™Pol shook her head.

â€œThe law is arcane, and it applies to all marriages. The Captain used the law to make certain I was allowed to leave Vulcan after our marriage and return to Starfleet. He also invoked the same law to make certain we would be allowed to serve together. Starfleet didnâ€™t want to cause a diplomatic incident by insulting me or violating Vulcan family law. It was determined then that The Captainâ€™s humanness did not have a bearing on his rights as a husband.â€

Enme laughed, and Tâ€™Pol continued.

â€œNo doubt the Vulcan government and the Vâ€™Shar will insist that you and Ravel be debriefed and carefully monitored. But Mr. Reed is an intelligence agent, and his team, as you have observed on several occasions, is well-equipped. Although we canâ€™t guarantee that you will be allowed to stay on Enterprise, marrying Ravel will make certain she can stay under Terran control.â€

Enme nodded.

â€œAll right,â€ he said, â€œDo you know if youâ€™re shipâ€™s garden happens to grow Romulan blood orchids?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow.

â€œWhen a Romulan male wishes to propose, he sends the best blood orchid he can find to his intended. If she accepts it, itâ€™s an acceptance of the proposal.â€

â€œCrewman Bowers, who is in charge of our shipboard garden, is an exo-horticulturalist. Iâ€™m not sure she can provide you with a Romulan Blood Orchid, but she may have a close analog.â€

Enme began to pace a little.

â€œAnd who will officiate? Do you have a priest aboard the ship?â€

â€œTerran tradition dictates the Captain of a vessel can perform a legally binding marriage, provided there are two witnesses.â€

Enme nodded again.

â€œWho are these witnesses?â€

â€œOne is generally chosen by the bride, the other by the groom - usually close friends or relatives but anyone of sound mind can be the witness.â€

â€œWill you be my witness, sister?â€

â€œOf course,â€ she replied, â€œand Iâ€™m sure one of the other crew will stand up for Ravel. If you apply for a license over subspace with digital signatures and marry before two witnesses, the ceremony will be legally binding.â€

Enme headed toward the door.

â€œCan we go to the garden now? I know it's late, but I want to send the orchid in the morning with a note explaining. . .â€

Enme continued to chatter on, and Tâ€™Pol observed that he was not at all reluctant to marry Ravel for legal reasons. From his grinning and his laughter, she deduced that he was happy at this turn of events.

****

That night, Tâ€™Pol returned to her quarters expecting it to be empty. When last she left sickbay, Phlox said he was keeping Trip overnight for observation. But she immediately inhaled his scent as she opened the door, and there was a light on in their bedroom.

â€œIâ€™m in here, darlinâ€™â€ he called out.

She found him in bed, reading a PADD.

â€œI convinced Phlox that Iâ€™d get better rest in my own comfy bed,â€ he said, â€œas long as I stay here until noon tomorrow, heâ€™s okay with that. But he said to tell you that you canâ€™t expect me to exert myself.â€

Trip spoke that last part a little wistfully.

â€œTheyâ€™ll be plenty of time for exertion in the days to come. The trip to Denobula should prove uneventful.â€

Tâ€™Pol slowly started changing out of her uniform and readying herself for bed. As she did so, she explained how Crewman Bowers had been able to provide an orchid that was very close in color to Romulan Blood Orchids. In the meantime, Enme was going to compose a letter explaining the need for their marriage to accompany the flower, which Bowers had agreed to deliver in the morning. The groom was not allowed to deliver the flower and note himself. Apparently, that was considered bad luck.

â€œI think itâ€™s kinda romantic,â€ said Trip, â€œYour brother seemed to care a lot about her well being. I think he was sweet on her before all this started.â€

Tâ€™Pol crawled in bed beside Trip.

â€œYou may well be right,â€ she replied as she put her head on his shoulder, â€œHow are you feeling?â€

â€œJust a little tired,â€ said Trip, â€œRemind me to avoid getting clunked on the head. I never enjoy it when I do that.â€

She sighed.

â€œWe must tell Starfleet that we canâ€™t serve together on a combat vessel. Our bond might help us work together on a daily basis, but when you were wounded, I was also incapacitated. That poses an unacceptable risk to this crew. We should ask for a transfer to another kind of vessel or back to Earth.â€

Trip sighed, and then he smiled at her. He took her hand.

â€œLet me ask you somethinâ€™. Do you think we could learn to use some of the blocking techniques to prevent the bond from acting the way it did when you collapsed?â€

Tâ€™Pol thought about this for a moment.

â€œWe could probably make such an occurrence far less likely, but it would always be a risk.â€

Tâ€™Pol knew her suggestion was logical, but Trip was giving her a look. The same look he gave her when he talked her into marrying him. He had good a good counterargument, that she knew.

â€œSo, what happened when you and I were knocked out? Youâ€™ve been briefed, I assume.â€

â€œLt. Commander Reed was able to retrieve Ravel from the mining colony, and Lt. Sato was able to destroy the drone ship when she took command.â€

Trip smiled.

â€œSo, in essence, thanks to the competence of Hoshi and Malcolm - there were no negative consequences to this ship or her crew. . .now, Iâ€™m not saying that you and I donâ€™t need to work on making sure this bond doesnâ€™t knock us both out at once, we do. . .but I donâ€™t want to be the kind of Captain who doesnâ€™t let my crew step up and take responsibility in a crisis. Bond or no bond, in wartime both of us could be hurt. How do we know that you wouldnâ€™t have been clunked on the head along with me, had you been on the bridge? Iâ€™ll be a better captain if I know that if you canâ€™t step in for me, that Malcolm or even Hoshi can -- if a worst case scenario happens. And if thereâ€™s a small risk that you and I could be taken out at once, I think the crew would be willing to assume that risk it in light of the last couple of days. Iâ€™ll explain everything to Malcolm and Phlox. They can be ready.â€

Tâ€™Pol remained quiet, pondering her husbandâ€™s words. Such faith in the others. . .was logical given their histories.

â€œMalcolm, Hoshi. . .Travis and Phlox. . .theyâ€™re like a second family to me, and I think they are to you. Theyâ€™ve got our backs. We canâ€™t abandon them because of what might happen. . .and if the worst happens, as it nearly did yesterday, they wonâ€™t abandon us. Theyâ€™ll step up. That is a far safer situation for this crew and this ship than if the captain and first officer were the only ones who could take control in a crisis.â€

Tâ€™Pol searched her husbandâ€™s eyes, and she saw the wisdom there. He had come close to death too many times to allow fear to rule his life.

â€œIâ€™ll study the Vulcan database for blocking techniques. Weâ€™ll probably have to work at them together, in meditation. It will require much discipline.â€

Trip put down the Padd and turned out the light, and then put his arm around her in the darkness of the cabin.

â€œI can do that, sweetie,â€ he said, â€œNow I think I better get to sleep. I have to learn how to perform a wedding ceremony. Two nights from now, Iâ€™m going to be doing it twice.â€

Trip gave her a kiss on the cheek.

â€œSleep well. I love you.â€

â€œI love you too, Trip,â€ she said softly and she soon followed her husband into sleep.


	31. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See the previous 30 chapters.

  
Author's notes: Disclaimer: See the previous 30 chapters.

Rating: PG. No smut, violence or swearing.

A/N: You can’t end a big, long romance adventure without a wedding, can you? The role of Chef will be played by David Sedaris. That’s who I picture him looking like here.  


* * *

Tâ€™Pol surveyed the nearly empty mess hall, which had been decorated in red and white flowers from the garden. A long table, covered by a white cloth, was set up in the corner and would soon offer up a large buffet of delicacies from many worlds. Her brother, who was still furious with the Vulcans, had requested that no Vulcan food be served at the wedding, but she had decided that wouldnâ€™t support his cover identity. So, several Vulcan dishes were on be on the menu.

The whole crew had been invited to what was going to be a double wedding. Most people had been thrilled when they heard Lt. Sato and Lt. Commander Reed had decided to marry, and then they were curious to discover that the shipâ€™s two Vulcan guests were also going to be married during the same celebration.

The fact that Lt. Commander Reed and Lt. Sato had invited the Vulcans to share in their celebration only fueled the shipâ€™s gossip machine about the mysterious Tirak and his bride Ravel.

Tâ€™Pol had been informed of all the gossip by Hoshi and Malcolm, who along with Trip and Phlox, were the only members of the crew who knew who their Vulcan guests really were. The official story read that Starfleet had hired the Tirak, who was a former Vâ€™tosh Kaâ€™tur, as a consultant on no-manâ€™s land planets and that due to Vulcan marriage laws, he had been able to bring his fiance along on the mission.

However, rumors and speculation about the Vulcan guests had gripped the crew. One rumor stated that he was a Vâ€™Shar agent and had been behind enemy lines and actually seen Romulans. Another rumor was that he was somehow related to Commander Tâ€™Pol - certainly, several people had noticed the resemblance between the two, a resemblance that couldnâ€™t be explained away by the fact that they were both Vulcans. One member of the crew had claimed to hear her refer to him as â€œbrotherâ€ but another had suggested that the fraternal designation might be the way Vulcans refer to one another when away from the planet - or indicate that they are simply members of the same clan. Another rumor said that Tirak had never left the Vâ€™tosh Kaâ€™Tur - and several people had claimed to see him smile and eat meat. His fiance, however, seemed to be the perfect Vulcan - serene and emotionless.

Chef stood at one side of the table, his eyes surveying where each dish would be placed. A six tiered traditional human cake wedding cake sat on a small side table. The base frosting was white, and Bowers had helped him match the color of his sugared roses to the real roses by providing him with the genome for the flowers she was using for the decor.

â€œI wish I had known there would be two couples,â€ said Chef snippily to Tâ€™Pol as he examined the cake, â€œI would have made a second cake.â€

Tâ€™Pol glanced over at the Chef. He had complained loudly the previous day about not having time to make the first one.

â€œThe Vulcans have no need for a cake,â€ replied Tâ€™Pol smoothly, â€œThey will attend the reception for a short time and then retire to their quarters for meditation.â€

Chef turned around and looked at Tâ€™Pol. So did Bowers, who was across the room and standing on a step stool and affixing some roses to the trellis where the ceremonies were to take place.

â€œIs that what they are calling it these days?â€ asked the Chef, who was notoriously forthright in his opinions.

â€œVulcans really meditate on their wedding nights?â€ asked Bowers from her perch.

Bowers tone was less intrusive than the Chefâ€™s, but she seemed just as eager for information.

Tâ€™Pol nodded, though she doubted the meditation would be on the agenda for her brother and Ravel. The Chef put his hands on his hips, and he rolled his eyes.

â€œAre you telling me that you and the Captain meditated on your wedding night?â€

Tâ€™Pol raised her eyebrow. Chef knew his value to the morale of the ship, and he was the only crew member who would have dared to ask her such a personal question. However, Tâ€™Pol had no intention of answering.

â€œWell,â€ said the Chef as he turned his attention back to the cake, â€œThat would be an awful waste of . . .time, Commander. If I had been lucky enough to marry the Captain, there would be no meditating, thatâ€™s for sure.â€

Tâ€™Pol blinked at the Chef, secretly flattered and glad her expression gave away the non-traditional way she and Trip had spent their wedding night on Vulcan.

â€œIâ€™m glad Iâ€™m not Vulcan,â€ laughed Bowers, â€œNo offense, Commander.â€

â€œNone taken, Crewman,â€ said Tâ€™Pol.

Tâ€™Pol headed back to her quarters to change for the wedding. In her hand, she held a PADD. On it were the certified Earth marriage licenses for Hoshi and Malcolm and Ravel and Enme. The latter license had been transmitted with the bride and groomâ€™s birthplaces redacted and their races listed under the ancient term - vuhlkantra. Tâ€™Pol wanted to be certain everything on the license to be truthful, so no court could declare it invalid. Admiral Archer had been kind enough to transmit the document to Earthâ€™s Central Records database, asking that it be kept top secret but officially filed.

Tâ€™Pol tapped the PADD and hurried off. The sooner the ceremonies happened, and she could send addenda indicating that to the Earth's Central Records Database, the better she would feel.

****

Five hours later, Trip sipped on a glass of champagne and looked around at the crowded mess hall and smiled. Malcolm and Hoshi were dancing with a group of the crew, and the â€œVulcanâ€ guests sat together in the corner talking. Hoshi and Malcolm appeared to radiate happiness, and the two Romulans looked pretty cheerful as well.

Trip was proud of himself for not flubbing anything in either ceremony, of course both couples had requested the simplest of civil vows. Nothing fancy. Trip was grateful that security precluded the performance of a Romulan ceremony, which according to Ravel was three hours long and involved the mixing of the coupleâ€™s blood.

When Phlox began dancing with Hoshi for the third time, Malcolm grabbed a drink and approached Trip.

â€œThank you again for making this happen, Captain,â€ said Malcolm.

Trip grinned.

â€œLike I said, I think will be good for morale to have married couples on the ship,â€ replied Trip, â€œand I know this from experience.â€

Malcolm glanced over at Enme and Ravel, who were still intensely conversing as if they were alone in the room. Trip recognized apprehension.

â€œWe canâ€™t forget theyâ€™re Romulans,â€ sighed Malcolm, â€œThey offered to help us develop bioweapons for use against their own people - as though that was the most normal thing in the world.â€

Trip shot Malcolm a knowing look. As charming as both Ravel and Enme were, they still saw the world very differently than humans - or Vulcans for that matter.

â€œTâ€™Pol says that if we do defeat the Romulans and the current regime is toppled, she thinks theyâ€™ll head back and rejoin Romulan society.â€

Malcolm shook his head.

â€œIâ€™m just hoping that some of our mercy and compassion rubs off on them,â€ continued Trip, â€œMaybe they could take some of it back with them, both of them seem impressed that weâ€™ve treated them well and stuck our necks out to help Ravel stay under Terran control. . .it could plant a seed.â€

Malcolm downed his drink.

â€œYouâ€™re an optimist,â€ said Malcolm, â€œYou always have been, but as near as I can see we - we meaning the crew of this particular ship - has won their loyalty. I donâ€™t think theyâ€™ll betray us. . .Iâ€™m not so sure about Earth and Starfleet at large.â€

Trip smiled.

â€œAll the more reason that weâ€™re the best equipped ship to handle our next assignment,â€ said Trip.

Malcolm glanced over at his Captain, curious.

â€œSeems that Starfleet Intelligence is pretty intrigued by this group of refugees that Ravel has carrot-ed in front them. After we finish up our errand on Denobula, looks like the brass wants us to go into this neutral zone and find as many of them as we can. Youâ€™ll probably get special instructions from Section 31 in your next mailbag.â€

Malcolm bit his lip.

â€œWeâ€™re going by ourselves? No escort?â€

â€œWeâ€™re supposed to keep the mission low-key. Hopefully, our guests will help us avoid any Romulan scout ships or drones. At least, thatâ€™s what Iâ€™m hoping.â€

Tâ€™Pol appeared in the mess hall and strode over the where Malcolm and Trip were standing.

â€œCongratulations, again, Lt. Commander Reed,â€ said Tâ€™Pol formally before she turned to Trip, â€œThe addenda to the licenses have been submitted with your digital signature, Captain. The marriages are both legally binding under Terran law.â€

â€œWell,â€ said Malcolm, â€œthat makes me feel romantic. If youâ€™ll excuse me, I need to go find my bride.â€

With that, Malcolm headed back over to where Phlox was still dancing with Hoshi and cut in.

â€œWell,â€ said Trip, â€œI think Iâ€™ve earned some good karma today. I married two of my best officers - to each other I mean. And I saved a woman from being deported and imprisoned against her will.â€

For a brief moment, Trip remembered back to â€œCharlesâ€ and the Vissians, wishing that situation had turned out differently. Tâ€™Pol, sensing his sadness, slipped her arm into his.

â€œYou did well, husband,â€ she said, â€œand it speaks good of humanity that you shall treat the Romulans far better than they would treat anyone in the same position.â€

Trip started to lead her to the door and whispered in her ear.

â€œWhat say you and I get out of here? Iâ€™m still under doctorâ€™s orders to rest after all.â€

â€œThat would be agreeable.â€

And with that, the captain and his first officer slipped out of the mess hall undetected by the crew. Trip knew that is was going to be a long war, and the ship had a dangerous mission ahead of it but for the moment none of that mattered.


End file.
